


Angelbot

by Siana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A lot of pseudo science, Bot!Cas, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Robot AU, Slow Build, but still pseudo science, discussing of rape/non-con, it gets a bit bloody at the end, or maybe not so much, some torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 19:01:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 135,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siana/pseuds/Siana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which society has advanced enough to develop human like bots that accompany humans in their daily lives. One day Sam finds an abandoned bot on a scrap yard and brings him home. Dean befriends the bot, Cas, and together they discover what it means to fall in love with a machine.<br/>Or something like that.<br/>Set about 50 years in the future<br/> </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Not going to happen Sammy.”

  
Dean knows that the battle is already lost. It won’t be long now, until Sam pulls out the puppy eyes and no matter how often he sees it, the effect always gets him. That doesn’t mean he won’t go down with a fight though.

  
“Dammit Sammy, you can’t just pick up a bot from the dumpster and drag him home. Who knows what kind of rabies he’s got.” Sam just gives him one of his bitch faces, but Dean refuses to acknowledge that they both know, how that is not the real reason for his reaction.

  
“Look, I know it’s sudden and that we don’t really have the space and all, but this is a one in a life time opportunity. This bot has obviously some issues I could use to work on my dissertation.” And there they are, big, shiny and absolutely impossible to say no to. Dean groans, his eyes flitting to the bot that stands patiently behind his brother, eyes forward and seemingly ignorant to the discussion that is going on in front of him.

  
“Fine, but he’s your responsibility. I won’t play botsitter or anything.” Sam huffs a smile, too grateful to point out that bots don’t need a sitter obviously. Dean doesn’t wait for him to say anything before he points his head towards the waiting bot. “So what’s his name?”

  
Sam’s happy face falls and he looks almost sheepish as he shrugs. “I don’t know.”

  
“Dude, you brought him here without even knowing his name? How did you even get him to follow you?” Dean runs a hand through his hair and wonders, not for the first time, if Sam’s genius genes haven’t somehow interfered with his common sense. He doesn’t know anyone else after all, who would pick an obviously defect bot from the scrap yard and take him home, without at least reading the emergency data protocol or something.

  
Sam just shrugs again, mirroring Dean’s gesture as he tries to get his hair in order, to no avail, like usual. “I poked around on his control panel, he woke up and he followed me. I figured why not, and took him home.” Dean can almost hear the ‘no big deal’ that Sam is most likely thinking.

  
Sometimes he seriously doubts that he and his brother are related, there’s just too much different between them. But that doesn’t keep him from secretly being proud of how far his brother has come with his life. Dean on the other hand… He knows he has come far in a way, from growing up on the road and in shabby motel rooms, clearing up his father’s messes more often than not, halfway between raising Sammy and failing school, to having a stable job and fixed living arrangements and making enough money (barely) to support Sam through college.

  
But deep down he knows that he’s a failure compared to his little brother, the brother who got into college, studying Advanced Robotics of all things. All it takes for him is one look at Sam buried in his books or working on his computer with some strange program open and he feels torn between immense pride and the sinking feeling that he will never ever do something with his life like Sam does. But he reminds himself that this is fine, that he has a stable job that he likes, that he has friends, few but still, and that it is enough for him to see Sam’s success.

  
On most nights that is even enough to put him to sleep.

  
He can’t say he’s comfortable with the bot in close proximity, he seems harmless enough but Dean knows how easily that can change. But he is also curious and he wants to know if the bot has a name, and why he just keeps standing like a marble statue when he’s supposed to be all human-y and stuff. The Angelbot commercials are very clear on that matter, ‘soulbots are lifelike and indistinguishable from humans’. Why anyone would want a humanlike bot, not just in appearance but also behavior is beyond Dean.

  
Upon closer inspection the bot actually is quite attractive, not that Dean would pay attention to the looks of a bot. Nope. Not at all. He can use a repaint though, his skin, synthetic as it is, is scraped in more than one place and his clothes are torn and dirty. His hair looks tousled as if he just dropped out of bed, the effect not at all dampened by the dirt clinging to his face. He has a bit of a stubble and Dean really has to admit that Angelbot did a really good job on the whole lifelike thing. If it weren’t for his marble statue posture and unblinking stare, Dean would have never guessed that he has a bot in front of him.

  
The bot doesn’t react as Dean comes closer, he keeps staring straight ahead, out of the pair of the deepest blue eyes he has ever seen. Indistinguishable from humans, my ass, Dean thinks. That blue almost screams inhuman, and no way anyone could stay that still without fidgeting every now and then. Dean knows that for sure, he has lived through enough military training from his father to understand that even a soldier has to blink from time to time. But there is something in those eyes that unsettles Dean, a depth that seems to scream at him and it feels to much like looking into his father’s eyes when he was sober and fighting the memories that haunted him, even years after Mary’s death. He shakes the thoughts from his mind, it’s just a bot after all and continues with his assessment.

  
“Is he even on?” Dean asks once he has rounded the bot. Still no reaction whatsoever. Not even when Dean asks him directly.

  
Sam snorts. “Dude, he _walked_ here.”

  
“Shut up.” Dean grumbles and searches for the opening to the control panel. He hates to admit it, but he has quite some knowledge when it comes to robomechanics. It’s inevitable when half the cars nowadays have the same technology crammed under their hoods. There’s nothing like a good old fashioned gasoline engine, complete with revving motor, but unfortunately he is one of the last who think like that. And of course, for all his theoretical knowledge, Sam has no idea how to maintain their little household bot, and that thing has a break down at least once a week, let alone a big complex one like this. But Dean refuses to replace it, they had it for four years now and Dean actually trusts it. That took him long enough after all.

  
After failing to locate a visual opening anywhere on the visible skin of the bot, and he downright refuses to undress the bot just to get to the covered bits, Dean comes to the conclusion that this must be one of those new models. You know, the really, really lifelike, that came out not so long ago. Which means that thing was fucking expensive, with all the synthetic muscles and nerves and special features and what not.

  
“Are you sure you found that abandoned on a scrap yard?” He doesn’t need to look to see Sam’s eye roll. Of course it’s from the trash, have you actually looked at it Dean? He scolds himself but he just can’t get over the damn smooth feeling of the skin. And those eyelashes actually look deceptively real. He can even feel motherfucking breath on his hand when he holds it under the guy’s nose. Maybe he should have paid more attention to the advances made in robotics, but most of the time he was happy to let Sam upgrade their little bot with the newest program and add some gimmicks himself without looking too far over the rim of his comfortable little plate.

  
No wonder there had been such a huge increase in bot-brothels over the last two years, with how realistic the bot in front of him looks, the girls must be a true hit. Dean pushes those thoughts away, he still prefers good old human girls, and instead tries to recall what he remembers from the few times he actually agreed on quizzing Sam before his exams. Most of that had been programming language unfortunately.

  
“The opening switch is in the right ear.” Sam supplies and Dean can just hear the grin in his voice.

  
“Yeah smugface, let’s see how you’ll get him to work properly so that you can take your data without me.” Dean grumbles but risks a look in the bot’s ear anyway. “Bring me my screwdriver.” Because no way in hell will he put his finger in another dude’s ear, even if that dude is a bot.

  
“Sonic or normal?” Dean doesn’t grace him with an answer, if only there was something like a sonic screw driver. He would mess so badly with Sam’s fancy digital alarm clock and his shower program, not that he can’t do that already with his hands but there is something explicitly more fun about doing it per remote.

  
Sam comes back with his screw driver and Dean shoos him away so he can get to work in peace. He hasn’t had dinner yet and is actually supposed to cook right now before Bobby comes home, yes they live in the upper story of his boss’s house, but that boss is a family friend and doesn’t expect rent so Dean isn’t going to complain about it. But since Sam dragged this thing home and it will end up on his shoulders to fix him up anyway, he might as well start now. The sooner he’s finished the sooner he can return to his other chores and forget that there will be a full sized soulbot in the house that is probably strong enough to snap Dean’s bones with ease. He _knows_ that they are fool proofed and have about a hundred safety and emergency protocols in case of a defect, but he just can’t forget what happened to his mother, so he won’t blindly trust a bot in the house that he hasn’t at least fixed up himself.

  
It takes one poke into the bot’s ear and a small hatch pops up, directly at the base of the neck. Dean hasn’t seen lots of control panels but Angelbot keeps them pretty standard in all their bots, more customer friendly and such. There are the USB port, an insert slot for portable external programs and the LCD screen with a few buttons for basic programming and another slot. Dean frowns as he sees the too big plug that is crammed into the multipurpose slot, he doesn’t know what the plug is for but it certainly doesn’t fit. Maybe that’s the reason for the bots weird behavior.

  
It takes a while of carefully wedging his screw driver under the plug and using it as a lever before it finally plops out and as on cue, the bot finally gives signs of what could pass as human life. He turns his head to look at Dean, the motion smooth and natural; he doesn’t even overstretch like so many others do. Dean half expects the bot to issue some sort of protocol, listing his functions and programming options but instead he just says: “Hello Dean.”

  
Dean is stunned. He recalls Sam calling him by his name when he came in earlier, but he didn’t expect the bot to pay attention, not while being in apparent standby. But what gets to Dean even more is the voice, it is deep and gravely, like the hair, coming straight out of the bedroom.

  
“Uhh… hi, I guess?” Dean flounders, he doesn’t really know what he expected, but certainly not that. This is almost too lifelike for his taste. “What’s your name?” He asks after taking a careful step back, with the bot awake and responding it feels too much like he is in his personal space and that is something that Dean really doesn’t like. Especially not from a bot.

  
The bot tilts his head and actually squints at him as if he has to first think about his response. “I am Castiel.” Dean raises an eyebrow. He will never get over the weird names people give to their bots, but then again he was the one who named their household bot Zeppelin. A total awesome name should anyone ever ask. It’s not his fault that last century music is out of fashion and that most people don’t know what rock music even is anymore.

  
Castiel is still staring and that makes Dean uncomfortable enough to try and induce a conversation until Sam comes back and takes his new toy to do whatever he has planned for him. “So what’re your functions?” He has real experience with soulbots and their possible programmings. As far as he knows they work as nannies, nurses and generally in any profession where empathy is needed, and he is even aware that some rich snobs keep the really, really lifelike ones as personal fuck toys, while calling them girlfriend or boyfriend as not to seem too kinky. Not that they can fool anyone.

  
“I…” The bot hesitates and frowns, and Dean is surprised because it seems like the bot is confused and can’t remember what he is supposed to say. If that isn’t real human behavior, Dean doesn’t know what is. “I don’t know.” He finally admits, looking crestfallen and mimicking what has to be the so far best impression of Sam’s puppy eyes Dean has ever seen.

  
And Dean just knows he’s screwed.

  
“Okay.” He feels the strange urge to comfort the bot, but instead he calls for Sam, because this requires technological knowledge. “I think something’s screwed with his hard drive, we need to take a look at his memory protocol and see what he’s been programmed with.” Castiel is staring at him again and that is just not fair, because he looks hopeful and expectant. As if what Dean has just said was the Holy Grail to his salvation and now he’s waiting on Dean to fix him.

  
Dean looks at Sam and is met with a quizzical look and a raised eyebrow. “Dude, that’s exactly why I brought him home. I didn’t know you were suddenly interested in my work.”

  
Before Dean can say anything to that he is interrupted by Castiel: “I think my memory protocol has been damaged, it is incomplete and causes a lot of errors in my system.”

  
“Well it seems you’ll be here for quite a while then.” Sam beams, nearly bouncing on his feet as he looks between Castiel and Dean, and since Dean fixed him up and even got involved as far as to propose to check his memory protocol, he can’t really say no to that now. Damn these bots, one day they will be the end of him. He is so definitely attaching the beer holder that Sam had been refusing him, onto Zeppelin now.

  
Castiel seems confused again. “I don’t understand.”

  
“I’m going to fix you.” Sam smiles and claps Castiel a hand on the shoulder. “It will take a while, but I promise you I will fix you. I’m Sam by the way.”  
“I know.”

  
Dean has to stifle a laugh. He totally didn’t think that was funny, but damn the look on Sam’s face is priceless. “His name’s Castiel, Cas.” He doesn’t really know where the nick name came from but it feels right and fits much better to the confused expression of a lost puppy that Castiel, no Cas, has on his face again.

  
And the look that Cas gives him is almost worth it, too.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s far too easy for Dean’s taste to fit the bot in their life. Bobby wasn’t happy about the addition to their household, he’s not as wary of bots as Dean is, but he’s not exactly open to them either, though  just like Dean, he can’t say no to Sam’s puppy eyes. And it’s not that Cas is just useless décor, as messed up as his system is, according to Sam, he is still able to perform basic household chores, with some help and a lot of explaining from, mostly, Dean.

And Dean catches himself actively seeking to talk to Cas. He tells himself that it is because he’s curious about what jammed his wires but the truth is, he’s curious about Cas the person. And that is so messed up that Dean refuses to acknowledge Cas for the whole day after he had that revelation about himself. But he can’t run away from the truth forever, because Sam, the meddler that he is, asks him to check upon a few things while he’s away at the university.

They have given Cas a few old clothes of Dean, because he’s closer in size, and Dean can’t help it, but something tingles in his chest at the sight of Cas in his old band shirt. Sam had cleaned off all the dirt, but somehow Cas’ hair refused to stay in shape and so Sam had given up on trying to tame it with a comb. Most scrapes had also healed, and Dean still isn’t sure what he should think of the fact that most of Cas’ parts are actually synthesized human parts. Something just doesn’t sit right with the thought of bots that can heal.

It’s his day off from the garage and Dean is in the middle of checking the neuronal-motor system when Cas finally forces him out of his self induced silence. “You’re upset.”

Dean’s head snaps up, and he is met evenly with the staring of incredible blue eyes. He accidentally brushes the electrode over Cas’ ankle and his foot jerks as a reaction to the nerve stimulation. Dean winces as it hits him against his thigh. He’s kneeling in front of the chair Cas is sitting on, his foot propped up on his thighs as he taps the electrode along Cas’ muscles.

“Apologies.” Cas says and Dean can’t help but snort.

“It’s not your fault.” He assures and sticks the electrode back into its holder on the power station. “I’m not upset. Don’t worry about it.” He sets down Cas’ foot and nudges his other one with his hand to indicate that he would like to continue with that.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing.” Cas continues after placing his foot on Dean’s thigh. It feels awkward to have this conversation while being on his knees but Dean refuses to acknowledge this as important enough to require an eye level conversation. Even more so when that would require to accept that the bot he is currently giving a foot massage to, is actually a person.

“Just drop it.” He says and taps Cas’ big toe, noting absentmindedly just how many details there actually are. From nails to the little hairs on each toe, everything is there. And it _feels_ like the real thing. The toe jerks as it is supposed to, and he continues down his toes, one after one.

“I don’t understand. What should I drop?” That makes Dean actually pause and he looks up at Cas again. It’s not the first time that Cas doesn’t get a reference or a figure of speech and Dean wonders just what happened to him to mess up his basic programming like this. Knowledge like this should be factory setting.

“The subject Cas, just drop the subject.” He returns to his task, not looking at Cas while he pokes at his nerves.

“You don’t want to talk about it.” Cas concludes and almost seems… disappointed. Dean has to stop again, because suddenly there is guilt and he feels bad for brushing him off like that. But Cas is a bot, a machine, all his emotions are just programs and therefore not real. At least that’s what he’s been trying to tell himself.

And that’s it, and somehow Dean had expected Cas to insist on the topic, but he just lets it go because Dean has said so and that makes him angry for some inexplicable reason. He sets Cas’ foot down and puts the electrode away, leaning back on his heels to get a better look at Cas. “No, I don’t want to talk about it, but you want obviously so why’d you just stop like that?”

Cas looks at him with that little tilt of his head that he always does when he’s confused and tries to understand something. “You said I should drop it.” Cas replies, the statement delivered in the same calm manner he uses for almost everything he says, and for a bot that’s supposed to be feeling, that is really annoying.

“And you just do everything I say?” Dean realizes that he has raised his voice but Cas’ complete absence of emotions sometimes just riles him up and he knows this is a small matter and he shouldn’t get worked up at all but he can’t help it. “If I say jump in front of a truck, would you do that too?”

“Why would you say that?”

“That’s not the point Cas. You’re supposed to have feelings, you should care. You obviously cared enough to broach the subject to begin with, so why stop now?” And he hates it, he hates that he has to admit that it actually would make things easier if Cas just had feelings like everyone else. Because then he could pretend that he was human and treat him as such. He hates that Cas is this in-between thing that is too much human to be a machine but at the same time is not enough human to convince him entirely. And he would prefer a human Cas over a machine Cas, because those soulless things are just creepy.

“I know you can do it. I have seen you act with Sam when he worked with you.” Cas looks at him inquisitively and Dean averts his eyes because he’s not going to confess to having actually spied on his brother and Cas, because he’s certainly not interested in the bot any more than the maintenance he has to perform on him from time to time. It’s all just professional curiosity; yup that’s it, nothing more.

“Dean.” Cas draws his attention back to him and he is actually surprised to see something akin to sadness on his face. “I don’t know how to do that. My emotional circuits are messed up, I don’t know how to describe it but I can feel and at the same time I can’t feel. It’s like I’m watching through an opaque glass window, I know what’s behind it but I can’t see it clearly.” And now Cas is looking at him with an almost desperate expression and that makes a sharp ache curl in Dean’s chest, as he gets drawn in by the depth of those blue eyes.

And no matter how often he tells himself that Cas is just a machine, he can’t stop feeling bad for him and he wants to help him, because, dammit, no one deserves to have his melon screwed up like this.

Dean takes Cas’ hand in his, and he still can’t get over the fact that it feels warm, just like any human hand would, and he knows from Sam’s excited explanations that he could also feel his pulse at his wrist. Not that he has a real beating heart but apparently lifelike entails a simulated pulse. And Dean can’t help but wonder if the heartbeat would react to stimulation like the human heart does. He cuts his thought process off, before it can reach areas he’s not prepared to venture in yet, if at all.

“You’re feeling something right now, aren’t you?” Cas looks at him again with that lost expression of his, trying to understand what Dean just said. “That was what, despair? Well sort of at least. I know it’s not the best feeling to feel right now, or ever but just focus on that.”

Cas frowns, contemplating something, then he looks down to where their hands lie joined on Cas’ thigh. “I don’t feel that anymore.”

“Okay? Did it just vanish or what?”

It takes Cas a while before he answers again and this time there’s a hint of curious surprise in his voice. “I feel good.” And then he smiles and mother of fucking rock, Dean wasn’t prepared for _that._ It’s a hesitant smile, one side of his mouth is lifted a bit higher than the other and his eyes light up along with it. And Dean is positive that this is the most beautiful smile he has ever seen.

Cas doesn’t say anything, he just keeps looking at Dean with that smile still in place and it takes Dean longer than he likes to admit, to shake it off. He lets go of Cas’ hand, but not without a tinge of regret that is mirrored by Cas dropping his smile.

“That’s good.” Dean says finally and his voice sounds too quiet and breathless in the empty space between them but Cas’ lips twitch slightly and it’s enough for Dean to feel like he is floating. “Just keep focusing on the small things and when there’s something you need help with, you can come to me.” The last part wasn’t supposed to come out loud, but now that he has said it he doesn’t want to take it back. Not when Cas is looking at him with obvious gratitude on his face.

Dean is suddenly aware of how he’s still crouched on front of Cas and he quickly gets up, awkwardly patting him on the head, because he resembles a lost puppy more often than not. Cas tilts his head again and Dean decides he has to put down some ground rules.

“If you don’t understand anything, whatever it is, be it what someone says or does or something you see, just ask, okay?” As cute as it is to have Cas trying to figure it out on his own, it’ll get them nowhere and no he didn’t just admit that Cas is cute.

Cas nods, but only after Dean gives him a raised eyebrow, does he ask the question he had apparently been pondering over. “Why did you touch my head?”

Nice hole you dug yourself there Winchester.

But Dean forces a smile and shrugs. “You remind me of a puppy.” Cas just looks even more confused and Dean realizes that if he’s going to make things easier for Cas, he should well, _make things easier_. “I just felt like it, it’s no big deal.” He tries again, but as an afterthought quickly adds. “But you can’t just do that to anyone, that would be way too creepy.”

“Under which premises is it okay to touch someone’s head?” 

“The way I did? Well you normally do that to children or puppies and usually never to adults, but under certain circumstances it is okay. Like with you, I felt like you could need a bit of reassurance. But you shouldn’t touch another person’s head or face in general, not without permission. It’s too intimate.”

It is kind of adorable how serious Cas is with all the effort that he puts into filing all the information away. Dean groans internally. It is just too hard to remember that Cas is actually a machine, even with his stunted emotions, he seems to be more and more human now.

“So it’s okay for you to touch my head?”

“Well…” He can’t just say no, because then he would have to explain why he still did it, but if he says yes than he would have to explain why it should be okay without asking for permission. His head hurts from just thinking about it. Damn him and his tendency to never think things through. “Not completely I guess, but like I said there are circumstances…” Even in his own ears the explanation sounds weak and he’s sure that Cas won’t buy it.

“I’d like you to touch me again. It felt nice.” Okay on the contrary, Cas not only buys it, he freaking tips.

“That’s not… it’s supposed to… it doesn’t work like that.” He ends lamely and makes a mental note to watch his figurative steps from now on when he’s talking to Cas. The dud can turn everything into a minefield.

“Why not? Since you already touched my head it should be okay to do it again, unless your previous action wasn’t as validated as you claim it to be.”

Dean stares at him, mouth hanging slightly open and it takes him a moment before he is able to raise his hands and pat it down on Cas’, admittedly, soft hair. Damn him, damn that bastard, he actually looks smug. Where did he even learn that?

But his complains are drowned in the smile that plays on Cas’ face again as he leans into the touch and closes his eyes. 

And Dean just knows that this won’t end well for him – at all.

\---------------

Dean likes working with cars. It relaxes him and he can just lose himself in his work. He often tends to forget the time while buried deep in the insides of a car. Admittedly, he doesn’t like the modern cars so much, there’s no motor oil, no greasy stains on his clothes and it is overall just too clean for his taste. Not to mention that most of the work is fiddling with tiny screws and cables and half the time he needs to get Charlie to fix him some software error.

But today he’s got an oldie, well not as old as he prefers them, but old enough to actually smell like a car. The car is in relative good shape, but there are a few rust stains on the chassis and the engine makes weird sounds, the reason why the owner has him checking it out. It doesn’t take him long to figure out the problem, but it will take some time to fix it and while he’s burying his head under the old BMW’s hood his mind starts wandering.

For some reason he can’t get Cas out of his head, and he would have to lie to say that doesn’t worry him. It’s not that Cas gave him any reason to distrust him, on the contrary, so far he has done everything they asked. But he just can’t forget what happened to his mother and the teachings of his father sit too deeply to just let it go like that. Sometimes he wonders how it was possible for Sam to come out this open minded when their father tried so hard to engrain every ounce of distrust he felt for bots into his boys. But then again Sam had always been the rebellious type.

As long as John had been still alive he had kept his sons away from everything that had a CPU and was more intelligent than a computer and Dean, as receptive to his father’s words as could be, listened fervently while Sam managed to develop an outright obsession with bots and everything that has to do with them. He and dad used to fight a lot and Dean usually tried to stay out of it but often ended up being dragged right in the middle regardless. Those weren’t his best memories but they also weren’t his worst.

And then, when he was 20, Sam ran away to go to college to study Advanced Robotics and then everything had fallen apart. That hadn’t sat well with his father, and his hatred towards bots had increased. Dean remembered more than one night when he had to drag his father home, or rather to the motel they were staying in, drunk out of his mind and more than often cursing and shouting in the process.

Dean had his own trauma to fight with, he hadn’t seen it but he knew that the fire that killed his mother was caused by a soulbot whose programming had gone haywire, and for some reason he had chosen their house to hide, in Sam’s nursery of all places. And that was where Mary found him. He still doesn’t know if the bot was out to harm Sam, or if he just wanted to hide but it doesn’t really matter, because his mother was dead and his life broke apart after that.

Science had advanced of course, there were safety protocols and there hadn’t been an incident like that for years, but Dean was still wary. Even after his dad died he still felt the need to uphold his believes. It wasn’t until he and Sam moved in with Bobby that his brother finally got him to consent to buy a little bot, no humanoid, but a small thing, looking a bit like a turtle with arms attached to its shell and a lot of beeping noises. Now Sam had moved to university and works on his PhD and that, along with his job as a car mechanic with all the intrinsic technology, had forced him to accept bots as a part of his life.

But that doesn’t mean he trusts them. It is inevitable to run into one when going about his daily life, they’re everywhere and since there are models like Cas out there, it will not always be easy to recognize them as what they are. And now there is Cas, and that changes about everything. He tried, but he can’t see Cas as anything else as human, a bit clueless and disoriented, but human, he knows he’s not, but he fails to see it, more than ever. And maybe that is wrong, and maybe he doesn’t know anything about Cas’ past or how he ended up on that scrap yard, but he definitely knows that he wants to find out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody. I just wanted to say hello to all my readers, (I kind of keep forgetting doing this all the time). So hello everyone, and thanks for your time, support and comments. It really means a lot to me knowing what you think. Feel free to ask if there’s something you don’t understand ;)  
> Oh and in case you didn’t notice, this updates weekly every Saturday, and the chapters will get longer eventually. I apologize for the shortness of this chapter.

It turns out Dean gets to spend more time with Cas than Sam does, mostly thanks to some bureaucratic craziness that keeps Sam from working with Cas for his dissertation. Dean has never spent much time trying to understand the whole shenanigans Sam has to go through to get permissions to do this or that at his university, mainly because it seems so redundant. But now he’s secretly grateful for it, because it allows him to spend time with Cas.  
He still doesn’t know the guy’s story, and somehow he’s reluctant to ask, because it can’t be anything good if it left Cas perfectly functional on a scrap yard, with an ill fitting emotion jammer plugged into his control panel. And there’s just something in Cas’ expression whenever Sam tries to address the topic, curious little scientist he is, and that expression makes Dean’s stomach drop with something unpleasant. He finds himself wanting to hurt someone, for causing Cas that emotion, because, even if he’s a bot, Cas deserves better than that.  
Although Dean has to admit that he has no clue whatsoever, what that even is.  
But regardless of his past, the more time he spends with them, the more Cas seems to grow into his emotions. He’s still stinted though and it will be a long time until he gets all the jokes and references Dean likes to throw around, but the strained face he always makes while trying to understand what has been said is priceless, and Dean will never admit that aloud, but he kind of prefers Cas’ naivety. It’s way more appealing than Sam, who gets the jokes but still refuses to acknowledge how funny they are.  
Sam is insistent though, and manages to coax at least part of Cas’ story out of him. Namely, what he did before whatever it was that got him scrapped. Dean has to admit, it is enticing, to watch Cas talking, a smile on his face as he reminisces of what appears to be happy memories. He isn’t even perturbed by Sam taking notes, or Dean’s obvious attempt at appearing uninterested while he’s all ears, he just keeps talking.  
His first memory is waking up in the factory he was built in, and from then on it’s just a lot of training and learning until he’s eventually deemed ready to be sold. Dean is actually surprised, he kind of assumed that soulbots came with all the knowledge they needed straight from programming. But it’s hard to wrap his head around the fact that the bots went through education just like humans do. Especially since that opens a lot of questions he’d rather not ask himself. If bots are so much like humans, shouldn’t it be morally questionable to sell them like slaves?  
Hell, it is morally questionable, only no one ever bothers to question it. Dean doesn’t like the implications of that, how that essentially makes them slavers too, and he really doesn’t like that thought. But there is not much they can do, bots are an integrated part of society, there are a few protests, there always are, but they are usually ineffective. There’s too much power and corruption behind the whole system, too much money, and if one thing never changes, than it’s that money rules the world. The only thing he can do is make sure that Cas keeps his free will.  
It seems though, that he’s not the only one who thinks like that. As Cas’ story progresses it becomes clear that the woman that eventually bought him didn’t do so to make him work for her, but to rather include him into her family as some kind of surrogate father to her daughter. There’s a certain amount of warmth in his eyes as he talks about Claire, but it is tinged with sadness. It’s with a certain amount of somberness that he admits to having feelings for Amelia, and that he wasn’t just a father to Claire but also a husband to Amelia.  
They treated him like a real human, he even went to work to support his family and he’s not shy to admit that he was truly happy. Somehow the whole story reminds Dean of A.I., and sure enough, the happy times come to an end eventually. At least that one’s not straight from the movie.  
“It was standard maintenance. Amelia had me go once a month to be sure, since I’m one of the earlier models of my line and she wanted to make sure that I didn’t get any defect . She kept calling it my monthly doctor’s check up, the same she and Claire had every year, so that I wouldn’t have to feel so different.” Dean has to admit that he has never seen Cas’ face as animated as he is right now, and it makes his heart fill with warmth to see him like that.  
“But something went wrong.” Pain flits over Cas’ face and it makes Dean’s stomach churn, because seeing Cas hurt, even from past events, really doesn’t sit well with him. “My memory core got damaged and that affected my emotional programming. Bots don’t have any legal rights and since we weren’t insured, Amelia couldn’t afford to fix me. She was a loyal woman, even after that. But we couldn’t make it work, I wasn’t the same. I just didn’t feel anything, my emotions were still there but I couldn’t access them. Amelia tried, she really tried but she was only human.”  
Cas lets out a sigh and it is so full of emotions that Dean can hardly believe that he ever lost them. But the emotions are too real to be a fake, and he wants to pull Cas into a hug, just hold him until that painful expression disappears.  
“She sold me eventually, apologizing the whole time, but it was hard to care about anything at that time. I told her that it was alright, that she did what she had to because I remembered that the old me would have done that. But in all honesty, I still don’t know if that was the truth. It’s just so hard sometimes to figure out if what I’m feeling is real, or just a memory echo.”  
There’s a shadow then, something dark flitting across Cas’ eyes and Dean really has to wonder why he’s so affected by all of Cas’ emotions.  
“But I’m glad.” There’s that small crooked smile again, the one that seems so uniquely Cas and Dean’s heart jumps in his chest because it’s directed at him. “I’m glad that I met you. I haven’t felt this much in a long time.”  
Dean is stunned for a moment. He vividly remembers the first day, when he met Cas. That transition from being an impassive bot to a living being and the jolt of excitement he had felt when Cas greeted him by name.  
“That jammer in your panel, did you get that at your new… er… job?” Sam just can’t let it go, but Dean can’t really blame him. He’s curious too, especially after he’s heard the story, and he desperately wants to know what happened to Cas.  
Cas’ expression grows dark and that sends all kinds of red flags up in Dean’s mind. He recognizes someone who doesn’t want to speak about his past, and judging by Sam’s frown, he does too.  
“You don’t have to talk about it.” Sam says and sometimes Dean just envies him for how easy it always seems for Sam to talk about emotions.  
“I would prefer that, yes.” Cas smiles somberly, not meeting their eyes. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, I just seem to have some kind of memory error and the data is… corrupted. I only know that they’re not… good.” He strains the last word, like it is difficult and Dean doesn’t like that expression at all, pain mixed with confusion.  
“It’s alright, we understand.” Sam assures, stopping himself just shy of patting Cas’ arm.  
“You’re doing a good job though.” Dean adds, feeling that this whole depressing scene is in need of some heartwarming. He’s not an emotional guy, by all means, but he just can’t stand the dejected look on Cas’ face. He can’t really say he knows why though, Cas is a bot, not a human and Dean shouldn’t care that much about him. “You’ve worked through quite a few emotions since you came here.” He shrugs to take away the implication that he was actually paying attention, he doesn’t want to give the impression that he cared this much.  
Because even now, Dean Winchester can’t forget what his father always taught him. Not with words, but with his actions and his disapproval whenever Dean showed emotions, because feelings are a weakness and Dean is supposed to be a man.  
Even when he was four years old.  
Sam smiles reassuringly and throws Dean a look but he just shrugs. He knows what he said when Sam dragged Cas through the front door, he doesn’t need the reminder. So he was wrong, okay? It happens, even to the best of them. Cas still seems a bit down but he appreciates Dean’s attempt at a compliment with a soft half smile and that is enough for Dean. Cas is just starting to recover after all.  
“Bobby will be home in a few, how about pizza?” Dean claps his hands, deciding that story time is over and his grumbling stomach should finally get the attention it deserves. Sam groans in reply, but doesn’t even bother with trying to put on a fight. He’ll lose it anyway as soon as Bobby is home.  
“Ever had pizza?” Dean asks Cas and is met with a confused gaze, before his frown eases up and he seems to remember something.  
“I believe I did, it was quite satisfying.” He smiles at the memory, but Dean doesn’t miss the short moment when the happiness is clouded by sadness. “I’d like one with ground beef please.” He adds, looking up at Dean with something that is unmistakably pleading hope in his eyes.  
Dean smiles, a bit unsure. He totally didn’t see that one coming. Cas and ground beef? But he’s not one to judge, at least not according to Sam who always scoffs at his pepperoni, salami, ham and extra cheese monstrosity. It’s not his fault that Sam doesn’t know what is good and keeps eating all that rabbit food.  
He doesn’t even need to ask Sam what pizza he wants, it’s the same as always, with a lot of salad and no meat. It’s not as easy for Bobby though, but he figures that the guy will just appreciate whatever he gets, especially when it waits for him when he comes home. It doesn’t take long to order the food, only a small one for Cas, the local pizza place knows them by now and at least Sam and Dean’s order is always the same. He stays on line to chat a bit with Alfredo, the guy has a ridiculous Italian -totally fake- accent and Dean just loves to mess with him.  
They finally hang up when there’s evident shouting from Alfonso’s boss in the background. Cas has watched the whole thing with slight interest and Dean nods at him once before getting up and retrieving the beer from the fridge. If he’s not mistaken, he has just heard Bobby’s old pickup in the driveway, the guy is as much a fan of old cars as Dean is, and that’s just another reason why Dean is so glad to have him.  
He hesitates before he gives Cas his beer, he knows that Cas can drink, but he’s not so sure about the effects of alcohol. “Is alcohol okay?” He asks, bottle held out in the middle between them and Dean just feels slightly stupid standing around like that. Cas frowns, confused for a moment before he nods his head.  
“I can digest alcohol, yes.”  
“Cool.” Dean comments and tosses Sam his beer, following it with the bottle opener once he has opened Bobby’s, Cas’ and his bottle. The door opens right on time and Bobby trudges in, grumbling something into his beard. The pizza arrives soon after and they all move into the living room to spend the rest of the evening in front of the TV, watching some old show from the beginning of the century about two brothers doing some weird ass ghost hunting. Zeppelin, the busy little bee he is, whirrs somewhere in the kitchen, probably cleaning the already sparkling floor.  
Totally pointless, but hey.  
All in all, it’s a good day.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s Bobby who finally points out that maybe Cas needs some clothes on his own, because as cute as he looks in Dean’s old shirts (admittedly he’s the only one with that opinion and shush you never heard that), they are too big for him, and so are his jeans. Bobby had taken surprisingly well to the new addition to the household, he had just mumbled something about ‘idjits’ and fixing his television signal and after Cas had given him his radio enhancer, he had happily attached it to the ancient device, proceeding to watch his favorite TV show in ‘the quality it deserved’.

And that also finally concluded the ongoing argument about said old television and if they should or shouldn’t replace it. It was his late wife who bought it and Bobby is a sentimental old fool but Dean loves him too much to ever call him out on it. And shush again, because Bobby would flay him if he went out all sentimental on him and Dean wouldn’t admit to that anyway, not without having at least a gun pointed to his head.

But the subject had been broached and the surprised and not-so-secretly pleased look on Cas’ face is enough to settle the matter so Sam made plans to take him shopping on next Saturday when he doesn’t have to spend his whole time at the university. It doesn’t slip Dean’s notice that Sam usually leaves Cas at home when he goes there and that he doesn’t spend nearly enough time with Cas to get any valid data for his dissertation but he figures that Sam still needs to battle a lot of bureaucracy before he can actually bring him along.

At first he was wary to leave Cas alone at home, with no one but Zeppelin to keep an eye on him while Sam was at uni and he and Bobby were working, but after he’d found Cas sitting in the exact same place and position he had left him in the morning he decides that he can trust him not to break anything, because, you know, breaking things is hard if one is not moving, at all. In any case, both he and Bobby are less than a hundred meters away at the garage.

It’s the night of the day he found Cas like that for the first, that he starts researching. He doesn’t know enough about soulbots and their behavior to understand what is normal and what is not, but he can’t imagine that sitting motionless for hours can be normal at all. And it isn’t. Not for Cas’ model at least. He’s supposed to be as human as possible, down to the simulated body function, hell Cas is even able to eat and digest.

He ends up scrolling through help forums and bot fan blogs way longer than intended, and what he learns there is worrying at best. The plug he extracted from Cas’ multipurpose slot was an emotion jammer, but he figured that one out on his own, a device designed to disable the emotional programming and transform soulbots into normal bots. But the plug had been made for a different model, thus not fitting into Cas’ slot and Dean can only guess how that messed with his circuits.

Dean wants to help Cas, he really wants but he has no idea how to even begin. He knows he should talk to Cas about it, ask him what happened before Sam found him, but they’ve been there and Cas can’t even remember. It can’t be something good, and there has to be a reason that Cas’ previous owner dumped him in the trash and Dean can’t say he’s not worried about whatever reason that might have been. But he figures accompanying Sam and Cas to their shopping mission might be a good, albeit totally unrelated, start.

Sam comes home late, Friday night and Dean can tell from the sound the slamming door makes that he isn’t in a good mood. They’re gathered in front of the TV, watching some old movie with long dead actors and Dean feels too good to allow Sam to dampen his spirits. The movie isn’t even that interesting but Cas watches it with wide attentive eyes and he twitches every now and then when something unexpected happens and if that isn’t the most endearing thing, Dean doesn’t know what is.

The old couch, (seriously is there anything not old in this house?), creaks when Sam slumps down and Bobby pushes one of the beers waiting on the side table in his direction without a word. Thankfully Sam doesn’t say anything and after his beer his half empty his posture relaxes just slightly.

“Bad day?” Dean finally asks during the commercial break.

Sam just groans as a reply and empties the last of his beer. “My prof has been on my ass the whole day because I made some stupid mistake in my research fund application and now I can’t continue, while we’re waiting until they’re approved. And I can’t bring Cas with me to work on him, as long as I don’t get my research funded” He sighs deeply and puts down the empty bottle. “And I have to go in tomorrow, to file in the mess that my predecessor has left, because my professor refuses to sign my papers unless it’s done.” He stands up and stretches and it doesn’t take much to guess that he’s going to bed early. “Sorry Cas, I can’t come with you tomorrow.”

Cas looks actually disappointed but he smiles anyway. “That’s okay Sam. I’ll have Dean.” And with that he turns his head and his smile brightens, losing the sympathetic edge as he looks at Dean. He’s distinctly aware that Sam makes an annoyed noise in the background before he leaves to get to bed but he’s too occupied with the intensity of Cas’ stare on him. And he can’t remember anyone ever having looked at him like that and that doesn’t have to mean anything, especially considering his history, but then there had been Cassie (what a coincidence) and not even she looked this happy when she was looking at him.

Laughter bubbles from the TV and Dean realizes that he has not only been staring, but that his mind had been wandering to places he never intended to go again. He forces himself to break the eye contact And that shouldn’t be as hard as it is), realizing with a pang of _something_ that Cas hasn’t stopped smiling, despite the ridiculous amount of time they must have been staring at each other.

They keep watching the show after that, and the show after that and then Bobby goes to bed, grumbling a ‘good night’ into his beard and just like this, they are alone. As much as their earlier staring standoff has unsettled Dean, the silence now is comforting. Dean feels himself relax and he feels more at ease since a long time.

“Dean.” Cas breaks the silence eventually and Dean idly wonders if the deep voice is some kind of malfunction or if it is intended. He could check that out but decides not to, he likes the voice.

“Yeah?” He tilts his head, indicating that he’s listening but keeps his eyes on the TV in front of him.

“You should go to bed.”

“What?” He realizes he is staring again but the proposition caught him off guard and he certainly didn’t expect that.

“It is late and as I inquired, shopping days tend to be long and strenuous.” Damn, he looks so proud of himself when he delivers that line. As if he had put a lot of effort into researching the information.

“Yeah okay I get it.” Dean concedes, trying half heartedly to hide his smile. He angles for the remote but a thought stops him from shutting off the television. “What about you? Don’t you have to sleep?” It wouldn’t surprise him if there is some internal sleep schedule programmed into the bots to make them even more lifelike.

“No, I’m fine like this.”

“Mh, that sucks.”

“How so?”

“Sleeping is awesome.” Cas just looks at him, head tilted and squinting and Dean has to fight back a laugh. “You know pillows, cuddly blankets, it’s warm and if you’re lucky you get to have nice dreams.” Cas doesn’t look convinced and Dean feels tempted to suggest Cas tries it out but it’s not like Cas just can fall asleep like humans do so he just shrugs noncommittally.

“Anyway, I should go to bed now.” He tosses Cas the remote. “I bestow upon thou the sacred rights to the remote, carry it with pride and honor.” Cas blinks at him, confusion clearly written all across his face and this time Dean doesn’t keep back his laughter. “Just watch whatever you like or something.” He gives a two finger salute and turns to leave the room.

“Good night Dean.” Cas calls after him and Dean is actually pleased that Cas picked up the sentiment and used it on him. It pleases him even more that Cas didn’t say good night to Sam or Bobby, but to him. As conceited as that makes him.

He has very pleasant dreams that night.

\-----------------------

Sam had the day planned out as far as Dean knows but he won’t bother with a schedule that most likely gets messed up anyway, because, let’s face it, things never go as planned. Dean is not a long sleeper by any means, but even he likes to sleep in on weekends, even if sleeping in for him means that he’s up no later than nine. But today he’s up even earlier because he can’t help being excited at taking Cas out for shopping.

Oh damn.

He’s taking Cas out. He didn’t think of that earlier, but now that Sam dropped out, it’s technically a date. It’s way too early to think about such things and Dean keeps reminding himself that taking someone to buy clothes is _not_ a date. Eating out is, or going to the movies but shopping clothes is a necessity, it’s something parents do with their kids. Great, now he feels like he’s Cas’ dad.

He shakes the thought off, thinking wryly to himself that with the example his dad has set, he would be a lousy parent. The feeling is heavy and his good mood is dampened when he drags himself to take a shower. At least he doesn’t have to take care of morning wood, not after his thoughts have turned depressing.

Dean’s usually emotionally stable, he knows what he’s good at and that he isn’t a total failure, but sometimes it still happens that he sucks himself into a dark hole of self loathing and inferiority complexes. It’s usually connected to his dad in some way, either when he remembers how he’d always been the one to disappoint him or, and that is even worse, when he feels like his dad has done a shitty job at raising him and Sam.

Because then, he feels guilty, not for just letting him down, but for actually thinking that his father didn’t try his best and disregarding all the things his father has done for them, despite having lost his wife and having to deal on his own with two children. Sure he wasn’t always perfect, but whose dad is? And under the circumstances, Dean is sure about that, dad did his best. He usually ignores the voice that keeps telling him that most of those circumstances were self inflicted.

Thinking like that is poisonous and it inevitably leads down into a very dark place and Dean knows better than to venture there. It’s not always easy to pull back, once the guilt has slammed its hungry claws into him it doesn’t let go easily. He knows it’s self destructive, he knows it’s bad for him but he just can’t help it. Some days he’s crushed under his own worthlessness, because he know he’s a failure, he dropped out of school, he barely managed his GED and now he’s working as a lowly car mechanic, despite all the high hopes his dad had for him. All he’s got to show for him is Sam, and sometimes even that isn’t enough.

On other days he’s just angry, angry at his father for putting so many unrealistic expectations on him, angry at Sam for making something out of his life, angry at everyone who isn’t as screwed up as he is, angry at the bot who blew his life into pieces and sometimes, but then most of all, he’s angry at himself, for being such a letdown that keeps blaming others for his incapacity. It’s on those nights that he drinks until his mind goes blank and he stops feeling anything at all.

It’s the warm beat of the shower water that snaps him out of it this time. It’s soothing, not just to his skin but also to his mind. He keeps focusing on it and just it and eventually his breath evens out and his chest stops hurting. He keeps the water running longer than necessary, Sam will probably complain when he comes back from his morning run he usually takes before he leaves for uni, but right now he can’t bring himself to care.

Going through his morning routine helps him get his focus back and by the time he pulls his clothes on, he’s almost back in gear. He slaps a smile on his face when he finally goes down to pick up Cas, not surprised at all that he still sits in the same spot he’s left him. The TV’s off and Cas looks up at him with a smile when he enters the living room. And by all means, it shouldn’t be that easy, not for a simple smile, to drive away all the bad thoughts that were lingering at the edges off Dean’s mind and the smile on his own face turns real at the sight.

“Good morning Dean.” Cas greets, his smile brightens and Dean is positive that his day just got 20% more awesome. Considering that it started pretty low that isn’t really much, but still.

“Okay, so I need to grab a quick bite and then we’re ready to go. Do you, uh, need anything before you’re ready?”

“No Dean, I am fine.”

Dean hesitates, on the verge of asking if Cas wants to join him for breakfast but he knows that Cas doesn’t necessarily have to eat and asking that would just be awkward so he makes a wavy hand gesture and turns to the kitchen. Cas is just a bot, a machine programmed to act and feel like a human but it’s just so easy to forget that sometimes. Even the non-human things he does, like sitting motionless in front of the turned off television for hours or how he doesn’t blink enough, don’t really help, because Dean keeps listing those traits as quirky habits in his head, and now that is really messed up.

Cas follows him into the kitchen and just stares at him while Dean prepares a quick breakfast and coffee. It’s unsettling and Dean finds himself chatting mindlessly as he tries to fill the awkward silence. He’s in the middle of telling Cas about the perks of pie, reminiscing about his childhood when his mother used to bake pies with the apples from the tree in their garden, that he has to cut himself off, because he hasn’t talked about that part of his life with anyone, not even with the people that had actually been there. But now here he is, telling Cas, who’s basically a stranger and a bot on top of that, about his _mother._

His mother who smelled of apples and sweetness, whose voice was soft whenever she talked to him, and as vivid as those things are in his memory, her scent and her voice, even the sound of her laughter, he can’t remember her face properly, and the one picture he has of her is worn out from the countless times he ran a finger over her face, trying desperately to commit it to memory, but he has never once been able to break it free from that eternal frozen smile.

Cas squints at him, tilting his head in that mildly confused way of his, as if he’s trying to deduce why Dean suddenly stopped. “Your mother sounds like a wonderful person.” Cas says after a while of heavy silence and Dean picking on his food.

“Yeah.” Dean agrees. “She was.” The words sound heavy on his tongue and the weight bears down on his chest. He can’t even remember her properly, the woman on the one picture he managed to secure is a stranger to him and no matter how hard he tries he can’t make the image move in his head along with his memories of her.

“She was?” Cas asks, and Dean hates him for a moment that he makes him say it.

“She’s dead.” The fork clatters down with an audible sound as he drops it onto the plate, appetite lost for good now. And he doesn’t know if he can handle it, so soon after his near breakdown this morning, being reminded of the one time in his life he was truly happy. And how he can never have it back.

But Cas’ voice pulls him back before he can go off the deep end and, really, it’s the damnedest thing.

“I’m sorry Dean.”

No one ever said that to him. He has heard it alright, people saying it to his father, fresh after the fire, and sometimes after, when they were travelling and the question about their mom came up. Even Sam got to hear it a few times, because he is the youngest, it was a form of pity but still. Dean doesn’t want people to feel sorry for him, has never wanted that but sometimes he wished that people would acknowledge that it’s not just John who’s lost his wife and poor little Sammy who’s lost his mother but that there’s also him, Dean, who has lost his mother too.

Being the older sibling sucks sometimes.

He’s aware that he’s staring, mouth slightly open, but he just can’t look away from the sincere expression in Cas’ eyes. The heavy weight in his chest lifts just enough to make breathing easy again and he finds himself smiling. “Thanks Cas.”

Cas seems surprised, he blinks a few times before the left side of his mouth tilts up into a tentative smile.

“No really Cas. Thanks.”

And the way his smile widens is almost enough to make the heartache worth it.

Dean finishes his breakfast and puts away his dishes just when Bobby comes out of his room and Dean knows better than to address him before he’s had his morning coffee. Cas on the other hand:

“Good morning Bobby.” Bobby just groans and ignores them as he pours himself a cup from the coffee pot Dean prepared earlier. And Dean actually has to laugh at the crestfallen expression on Cas’ face as he follows Bobby with his eyes.

“Come on Cas, two weeks in this place and you haven’t learnt house rule number one yet? No talking to Bobby before his first coffee.” Bobby grunts his affirmation and downs the cup in one go. He takes a moment to close his eyes and savor the taste, not disturbed by Cas next words.

“I don’t understand how coffee can make such a difference over people’s moods.”

Bobby rolls his eyes and pours himself another cup before he goes through the cabinets in search of something to eat. Dean takes out another cup and pours the last of the coffee in, adding a bit of sugar and cream, because beginners should start off easy and puts it in front of Cas. His answer is another squint and a head tilt before Cas finally takes the cup and takes a sip. Dean eyes him closely, watching his reaction as he tries the taste on his tongue. He is more than just pleased when Cas’ face lights up and he gulps down the rest of the content, finishing it off with something that suspiciously sounds like a moan.

He can’t help but feel awed at the advances of science, bots that are able to digest food and drinks, but he has to admit he’s even more awed by the heavenly sound Cas made after trying the coffee. He decides that now is the right moment to leave before his body decides to do some funny things while thinking of what else would bring Cas to make those sounds, and yep he should get off that thought train right now.

Cas is still entranced by the taste of the coffee and Dean almost has to drag him out of the kitchen, coaxing him with promises of more coffee later, and into the hall, where he puts on his boots. He notices then that Cas only wears a pair of old slippers and he is faced with the dilemma of how to get Cas shoes that he can wear outside and fit him. He settles on giving him a pair of rubber boots that is a bit too big but it will suffice until they bought him new ones.

They drive to town in the conversational silence of Dean’s favorite music blasting out of the Impala’s speakers. They get more than one weird look when they enter the town, because as much as Dean loves his baby, it’s an old-timer, and it takes a hell of a lot of work to keep her going, and most parts under the hood aren’t even original any more. It actually took him a lot of time and energy to recreate her telltale revving sound after he had to replace the gasoline engine with one of those new ones that operate on electromagnetic fields.

He parks the car in a public garage and makes double sure that she is locked, because as old as she is, she’s a rarity, and to the right people she’s worth a fortune.

“Okay so where do you wanna start? Shoes, clothes, accessories?” It’s still kind of early and there aren’t many people out but most stores have already opened so hopefully they will be able to bypass the worst shopping rushes.

“I don’t know.” Cas replies, looking a bit lost when Dean leads him onto a street that is lined with various shops. Dean sighs and shakes his head in amused exasperation. He has always thought that shopping for clothes was an annoying necessity but the way Cas looks at everything, peeks into shopping windows and nearly bounces on his feet in excitement, makes it worth it.

But as soon as they enter the first store that has caught Cas’ attention and actually fits Dean’s pay grade, which unfortunately isn’t very high, he gets almost humble. It seems that it finally has caught up to him that today is about him, that Dean’s going to spend money on him, solely to indulge him and that he has a whole shop of opportunities in front of him and suddenly he can’t decide what he wants to look at first.

Dean finally has enough and takes Cas’ hand to pull him away from all the weird looks he gets for his ill fitting ensemble of a too big shirt and colorful rubber boots, but he is stopped short when Cas makes no attempt at following him. He turns around to find Cas staring at him with wide eyes, hand tightened in his grip and for a moment he is lost in the impossible width of blue. There’s confusion, a lot of confusion but behind that is a spark of something else and whatever it is, it terrifies Dean for some reason and he yanks back his hand, startling not only Cas but also himself.

And the expression Cas pulls after that is like a stab into his heart, so full of confusion, only this time it is hurt and disappointed and Dean feels bad for overreacting at something he most likely only imagined. But he can’t take it back, and the look on Cas’ face freezes him in place and he can’t bring himself to undo it and take Cas’ hand again.

“Sorry.” He finally mutters, rubbing his hand at the back of his head and looking anywhere but at Cas. “We should go… uh… check out the men’s section.” Dean doesn’t wait for an answer but turns around to lead the way deeper into the store to where the men’s clothes are on display but he’s stopped once again, this time by Cas’ voice.

“Dean.” He’s loath to turn around because he can’t stand another look of disappointment on Cas’ face. “You have nothing to apologize for.” Cas’ voice is blank, sounding for the first time like the machine that he is and then he walks past Dean, he doesn’t stop to look at him, he just walks away and Dean is left behind, speechless and with more pain in his chest that he cares to admit.


	5. Chapter 5

Taking Cas shopping is actually not half as eventful as Dean expected. Cas tries on a few things and decides then that he feels most comfortable in a suit and tie ensemble, and no amount of coaxing form Dean’s side can get him to chose something different. Dean finally relents, what happened before still clear in his mind and he kind of feels like he owes it to Cas, to get him what he wants.

Somehow a trench coat ends up on the pile he dumps on the counter to pay and he swallows down his snarky comment because he’s decided to indulge Cas and it would be half assed to go back on his word now just for trench coat (even if it’s kind of ugly). The number that pops up once everything is checked out is a bit too high for his liking, no scratch that, it is way too high for his liking, but he pays regardless, because Cas jus radiates excitement and there’s the memory of that hurt expression that doesn’t cease to haunt him.

It unsettles him, more than he’d ever guessed, when Cas goes all flat and blank on him, and he’s relieved to see the tentative smile on his face when he presses the handles of the plastic bag with Cas’ new clothes into his hands.

They leave the store and Dean checks his watch but not really much time has passed since they arrived so the streets are relatively empty. He doesn’t need to check his wallet though, to know that he’s reached his cash limit for the month but the thought of Cas in his suit with those horrible rubber boots is just too much and he resigns himself to eat only bread for the next three weeks until he gets his pay check. It’s not that he doesn’t have some reserves, but those are meant for emergencies, mainly for emergencies regarding Sam, because let’s be honest, everything he does is for Sam.

But this is for Cas, and maybe that should frighten him but somehow it doesn’t. Because this feels good. Maybe he should ask Sam for money since Cas is his supposed to be his responsibility after all, but Sam makes even less than him with his tiny PhD salary and he spent so much time providing for his brother that it feels wrong to rely on him.

The shoes take longer than the clothes did, mainly because it’s really hard to find fitting dress shoes that he can actually afford. They finally find a pair in a second hand shop, and as much as Dean dislikes the thought of wearing things other people have worn before him, Cas seems happy and that is enough for him. (His wallet is even happier).

And because he’s in a good mood, he also buys the rainbow pinwheel that Cas spends nearly five minutes looking at while they’re waiting for the clerk to finish another customer. He has to decline, however, Cas’ suggestion to put it on the Impala. They spend the way back to the car arguing about the advantages of pinwheels on cars and even though Cas keeps mock pouting at him for shooting down every argument, Dean feels lighter than he has in a long time. The incident from earlier is forgotten and seemingly forgiven and Dean feels relaxed and easy.

 Cas tries to jam the stalk of his pinwheel into the space between door and chassis frame while Dean’s busy with putting the bags in the trunk and that ensues in a chase around the car when Dean snatches the offending item and keeps it just out of Cas’ range. And he doesn’t even stop for one second to wonder that he’s having fun with Cas, fun he didn’t have in a long time.

Dean finally traps the pinwheel in the trunk and locks it, chest vibrating with laughter as he has to double over at the kicked puppy expression on Cas’ face that is just too ridiculous, because Cas gets excited at the smallest things. “Come on.” He slaps a hand on Cas’ back and opens the door to the driver’s seat. “We can grab something to eat on the way back and once we’re home you can get your toy back.”

After Cas gets in the car, Dean starts the engine and pulls out of the parking space. He will grab a quick burger at Mc’Donalds or something, he’s not particular fond of their mass produced burgers but since Cas doesn’t have to eat, it would be a bit pointless to go eat out.

It’s when he’s happily munching on his cheeseburger, with extra bacon, that Cas addresses him with a sincerity that breaks through his food induced daze. “Dean.”

He looks up sharply, there’s something in Cas’ voice that demands attention and Dean puts down his half eaten burger, because he feels like he needs all his energy for listening .

“You don’t like me.” The statement almost causes Dean to swerve into the opposite lane and he has to bite down on the curses that threaten to spill out once he has righted the car again. It wouldn’t do to swear now after Cas has just dropped that bomb on him.

“What makes you say that?” Really what makes him say that? They just spent ten minutes or so chasing each other around the car like fucking five year olds. He wouldn’t do that with someone he didn’t like, hell he isn’t even sure if he would do that with Sammy.

“You said so when we first met. You didn’t want to play ‘botsitter’ for me and now you’re doing just that. You also said I had the rabies.”

Dean winces at the words. It’s true, he said that, but that was before he knew Cas, before he learnt that he could just be like any other human. Well almost like a human, he still has some weird habits but Dean thinks they’re kind of cute. Dean chooses not to dwell on the fact that he just thought Cas was cute.

“That was…” he trails off because he has no idea how to describe just what t _hat_ was. It was prejudice and judgment, anger and refusal and he had let all that frustration keep him from really looking at Cas and giving him the benefit of the doubt. All those years he has spent avoiding bots and watching his back around them seem all so pointless now, because, really, they are just like humans.

“I didn’t mean that.” Yes he did. “Not really. I didn’t know you then and I had some bad history with you bots.” It’s a meager explanation, one that omits too much and he feels Cas’ questioning gaze on him as he glues his eyes to the road so that he doesn’t have to meet the intensity of those blues.

Cas stays silent and that just irks Dean, because the silence demands that he continues and he doesn’t know if he can go there, not like this, while he’s in the car with a man that could still be considered a stranger. So he stays silent, gritting his teeth as the miles shrink between them and Bobby’s house, he keeps chewing over words in his head but nothing feels right, so how can he possibly say them when they even fail him in his mind?

“I understand.” Cas says when it becomes clear that Dean isn’t going to answer soon and his voice is calm and flat again and Dean feels the sudden urge to slam the breaks and have this conversation right now, just so he never has to hear Cas use that voice again. But he can’t, his head is empty and his chest hurts and he isn’t even sure if it is because of the memories that show his mother with no face because he can’t recall that for the life of him or if it is because it feels as if he had just lost an opportunity he didn’t even know was there.

Bobby’s house comes into sight and Dean realizes that if he just parks his car in his usual spot, Cas will get out and leave, take his new clothes and his pinwheel with him and Dean will be too much of a chicken to clear up the misunderstanding, because if there is one thing that Dean Winchester totally fails at, than it’s talking about feelings.

He didn’t even realize the moment this all had become about feelings.

He slams on the breaks, stopping the car a few yards before the driveway that leads around the house to the big parking lot at the back of Bobby’s house. He knows it must look ridiculous, the Impala standing in the middle of the road that leads to Bobby’s front, motor still revving and no attempt of moving from the spot. But he doesn’t care, because this has somehow started to involve feelings, feelings beyond the anger he still feels about the loss of his mother and he can’t just let it go.

He doesn’t even know why he can’t, and that, really, should scare him because Dean’s notorious for one night stands and not so serious relationships, fucking everyone that catches his eyes, both male and female, and he hasn’t cared about emotions for a long time, ever since Cassie, and now here he is, sitting in his car with a bot and fighting to get his voice steady so he can talk to him and explain his feelings, of all things, so that he doesn’t have to watch another back turned on him. And he tries hard to swallow down the fear that talking about it will turn Cas away, just like talking to Cassie turned her away, and the thought is almost enough to make him clam up, but he can feel Cas’ eyes on him and he hasn’t left the car yet and that must be a good sign.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Dean looks up and is met by Cas’ steady gaze, and for a moment he is enthralled by the kindness in them, it is as if he understands that Dean is struggling and he gives him all the openness he needs.

He takes a deep calming breath, eyes locked with Cas and he starts talking. The story comes hard at first, he fumbles with words and has to restart several times, but eventual his voice steadies and he continues through the story of his past that he hasn’t shared with anyone before. He tells him how much he loved his parents, both of them, despite their constant fighting, despite the late night yelling and the nights his mother spent alone crying in their bedroom, he tells him how all that changed when his father pushed little Sammy in his arms, fear in his eyes and from the other room he could hear the crackling of flames and the mechanical voice that spoke words he still can’t forget even though he doesn’t understand their meaning, he tells him how John spiraled downwards from them, lifting Mary on a pedestal so high it’s impossible to reach and how he wasted away his life with alcohol and the pointless fight against a society that had embraced the advantages of robotics a long time ago, and finally how the burden of providing for the family fell on his shoulders, forcing him to drop out of school to find a job and how he had to watch helpless as John descended deeper and deeper into an endless cycle of alcohol abuse and self neglect.

And with every word that drops from his lips, it feels easier, the burden lifted and as much as the retelling hurts, it’s also cleansing his soul. There are still things he omits though, there are just things he can’t speak out lout, because that would make them real and his Dad is already dead, there’s no need to talk bad about the deceased.

Silence falls heavily over them once Dean has finished and he finds himself fidgeting with the steering wheel, unable to meet Cas’ gaze so soon after he bared his soul to him.  He’s suddenly anxious about Cas’ reaction, no way he can bear him walking out on him like Cassie did, but maybe he won’t, because Dean hasn’t told him _that_ part of his past.  

“Dean.” It shouldn’t be possible for Cas to put so many things at once in one word, but just the sound of his name, wrapped in the smooth of Cas’ voice is enough to settle the flutter of anxiety in Dean’s chest. He looks up at Cas and is met with the most steady and reassuring gaze yet and just looking at him makes Dean feel at ease.

“Thank you for telling me.” Cas says, there’s a certain gravity in his words but his eyes stay warm and Dean relaxes even further. “This means a lot to me.”

Dean can’t help it, he smiles. It’s tentative and a bit strained but it’s genuine and he can’t say that about many of his smiles. But Cas isn’t finished and his next words are like a punch to the gut.

“I understand when you don’t want to spend time with me anymore. I am a bot after all.” His voice is blank again and so is his face and Dean really can’t stand to see that expression one more time, it just tugs at something deep inside of his chest and he has the urgent need to fix it.

“Cas.” He says, but no, that is not enough, not this time. “Castiel.” He waits until he has Cas’ full attention, eyes wide again and expectant, before he continues. “That was a long time ago, it has nothing to do with you. I just grew up with a lot of misconceptions and prejudices and I let that out on you at our first meeting. And it’s not that easy to just ignore all of it, but you are different. I couldn’t hate you even if I wanted to-“

He cuts himself off, but it’s already too late, the words are out and he can’t take them back. It’s not a confession, not in the true sense, but it is _something_ and there are too many emotions in his chest and a lot of them just spilled out of his mouth. But as much as it scares him, and damn it scares him, he can’t deny that it isn’t any less true just because it makes his stomach clench with unbridled fear. And that is precisely why he has to pick that sentence up, he can’t just leave it like that.

“I don’t hate you.” He repeats, keeping eye contact and putting all his sincerity in his voice and the excess that doesn’t fit in, he puts in his eyes.

Cas blinks at him, clearly surprised and then his lips split into that crooked smile of his and Dean’s heart fucking stutters in his chest.  And it’s that smile that coaxes him to say what he says next and he only kicks himself a little in his mental ass, because the expression on Cas’ face is worth it. “And I enjoy your company.”

“I feel the same.” Cas replies and his grin is all teeth and Dean restarts the engine before this can get any deeper into chick-flick territory and he drives the car back behind the house in its usual parking spot. But he feels good and maybe a little reckless, so instead of simply getting out of the car he turns to Cas and winks at him.

“How about we get you in your new clothes.” He smirks and leaves the car before the reality of what he just did can sink in and he gets terrified over the suggestive tone he accidentally slipped into his voice. Even though he can’t really say he would mind to help Cas personally into his new clothes- only to rip them off him as soon as they’re finished. It’s a good thing that Cas is still in the car because Dean’s face is frozen in some in-between state of shock as he realizes just where his thoughts have gone. And damn him and his freaky libido, but not even the fact that Cas is a bot changes anything in how the warmth coils in his stomach at the thought of just what he could do to that body. Hell, he’s even curious if that synthetic skin is able to flush red.

He stops himself short and walks around to the back of the car to get the bags, but he notices that Cas still hasn’t left the car, and so he walks past the trunk and he rounds the rest of the car to look into the window on the passenger side. Cas is sitting where he left him, eyes wide and Dean actually has to do a double take, because is that fucking red on his cheeks?

“You alright?” He inquires, not entirely sure just how to deal with the situation. Cas looks like someone has dropped a figurative bomb on him.

Dean’s words startle the other and he looks up at Dean with mild confusion as he tries to catch up with what is happening. “Yes, of course. Apologies.” He fumbles a bit with the door handle until Dean opens the door for him and steps back to let him out, he even goes as far as to carry the bags for Cas, ignoring the little voice in his head that keeps telling him he’s acting as if he were on a date.

Cas actually remembers getting Dean’s half eaten burger from the car and Dean might have just considered giving the guy a kiss for his apparent awesomeness. It’s not so farfetched, if Cas were a human Dean would totally tap that, heck, if he met the guy in a bar he would definitely aim for a one night stand but Cas is a bot and so he forces all inappropriate thoughts out of his head.

But that’s easier said than done, because, hands down, Cas is the hottest guy Dean has ever seen, and he’s screwed around with enough men (and women for that matter) to get a general idea of what he likes. But it’s not just that, sure the idea of a naked Cas, writhing underneath him, skin sweat soaked (okay probably no sweat on that skin) and that pretty flush on his cheeks, is nothing short of arousing, but he finds himself liking the idea of waking up next to him, looking into those deep blue eyes first thing in the morning. 

And damn if that isn’t some scary shit right there, but he’s already gone this far with Cas as to tell him about the part of his past he hasn’t told anyone so far and he somehow gets the feeling that Cas would even forgive him for his shady endeavors in the past. But that doesn’t change that Cas is a machine, and that is just fucked up, because his emotions are programmed and could be altered into anything Dean wants, but that would violate every shred of decency Dean has left. Not to mention that there is not a snowball’s chance in hell that Cas might just feel the same for Dean on his own, because nothing good ever happens to Dean. Life has taught him that lesson over and over again after all.

Maybe he should go into town sometime soon, find a nice piece of ass to forget Cas for a while, but he gets the feeling that would only help superficially. And that hasn’t even taken into account yet that he still has to deal with a childhood’s worth of hatred concerning everything regarding bots, injected to him by his father, but it’s just too easy to forget that Cas isn’t human and he can’t just bring himself to feel any negativity towards him.

He really is screwed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the university related stuff here is made up since I have no idea how the US education system works. I googled a bit and still have no clue so this is mainly inspired from what I know and how it works in Germany. Oh and a lot is simply made up to fit the story and I figured we’re in the future so what the hell.
> 
> Same goes for all the pseudoscience that has been going around and will come.

The house is deserted when they enter, aside from Zeppelin, but he doesn’t really count, Sam’s at the university obviously, but Bobby is nowhere to be seen either and Dean has the sneaking suspicion that he might be visiting Jody Mills and he smiles to himself at the thought. Bobby’s a grumpy bastard, but he deserves some happiness and Jody might just be the right person for him.

“How about you change in your new clothes while I prepare some coffee? There’s supposed to be some leftover pie in the fridge I could warm up.” Cas’ eyes light up at the mention of coffee and Dean has to hide the smile that threatens to show on his face. And that’s not just because he loves pie, he’s also going to share his favorite dish with Cas and somehow that makes him all excited and giddy. He knows he should be worried about the storm of butterflies he gets in his stomach whenever Cas smiles at him, but honestly, who cares?

He can’t even pretend anymore that he distrusts or dislikes Cas for being a bot, and it’s not that having a sexual relationship with a bot is problematic, heck, there are whole production lines solely aimed for pleasure, both normal bots and soulbots. The only thing that distresses him is that his feelings reach deeper than that and _that_ is a tad bit worrying. But Dean has never been one to care about conventions, so he’ not going to start now.

There’s still the thing though, that Cas won’t ever return his feelings, but that doesn’t mean he can’t indulge himself in some fantasies. He can spend some time pining after Cas, just long enough until he finds something else to distract him. At least that’s the theory.

He has the slightest hunch that it won’t be that easy.

He checks the fridge while Cas disappears into the downstairs bathroom to change, and sure enough there are two slices of delicious pecan pie waiting to get eaten. There’s even some leftover whipped cream in the back of the fridge and his mind conjures unbidden images of Cas stretched out on his bed, covered in whipped cream, offering up a piece of pie with his mouth and where the hell did that even come from?

He didn’t quite expect that.

Well at least now he knows for sure that lil Dean has no objections whatsoever concerning a certain male bot with entrancing blue eyes and a serious case of bed hair. He shakes both the weird thoughts and the arousal from his mind and body and puts the cakes in the oven to warm them a bit. The coffee machine is one of those ancient things that still need a manual water refill and aren’t connected to the water lines, so he checks if there’s enough water left before he puts two cups on the grid and punches the buttons to get two coffees. He’s still a bit impressed with the fact that Cas is apparently able to digest food, even if his capacity is limited.

The oven bings just when the coffee is ready and he takes out two plates to serve the pie on. He puts the whipped cream on the table along with sugar and cream and goes to fetch the coffee cups when a sound alerts him to the kitchen entrance.

His mind has barely enough capacities to process that it’s a good thing he didn’t get his hands on the coffee yet, because he would definitely have dropped them. Cas is hot, honest to god hot and Dean seriously underestimated the effect the suit would have on Cas. Even that stupid trench coat isn’t able to destroy the picture; on the contrary, the sight of it, hanging off Cas’ shoulders does things to Dean’s imagination that aren’t even funny anymore.

And that is totally not okay, because dammit, how is Dean supposed to stay calm when Cas is able to look like that? Worse, he will probably always look like that from now on, since that’s his only set of clothes, and who even thought this was a good idea? Dean has to bite on his own tongue to prevent himself from saying something stupid like ‘you look gorgeous’ or how he would like to undress Cas until he wears nothing but his trench coat and bend him over the-

He quickly turns away to take the cups of steaming hot coffee, not meeting Cas’ eyes when he puts them on the table. “You don’t like it.” Cas says and there is a hint of disappointment in his voice and Dean wants to hit himself because of course Cas is going to believe that when he react like that and that’s just not fair.

“I like it.” Dean is quick to supply but he’s still not able to meet Cas’ eyes so he focuses on the pie instead, placing a generous spoon of whipped cream next to the slice on his plate. Cas doesn’t say anything further but Dean can still feel his gaze on him and so he finds himself at a loss of words again as he tries to make reason of the whirlwind of thoughts in his head.

“It’s just…” He trails off and finally lifts his gaze to look at Cas and is met with the deepest  and intense blue, and he just knows he will never get used to those eyes. It’s just what? His libido is dancing tango in his groin and the things that coat is doing him are still not funny, not to mention that he desperately wants to run his hands through that perfectly messed up hair that looks like it stumbled straight out of bed.

“You just look too good.” There, he shouldn’t have said that, because now Cas is looking at him again, eyes wide with confusion and that little head tilt that does things to Dean he doesn’t want to think about right now.  Come to think of it, _everything_ that Cas does, seems to do things to Dean.

“I don’t understand.” Of course he doesn’t understand, how could he, if even Dean doesn’t quite understand it.

“It’s complicated.” Sure it is, it always is but Dean can’t believe that he just used that jerkass answer to deflect the question Cas has every right to ask. And Cas’ confusion just grows and he frowns as he tries to make sense of what could possibly be Dean’s problem and that just makes him feel like the biggest douchebag in the Northern hemisphere. He slumps down on the chair, making a weak gesture for Cas to do the same as he runs his other hand through his hair. How the hell is he supposed to explain the mess of emotions that’s currently going on in him?

He takes a reassuring gulp of his coffee, silently wishing it was spiked with alcohol but for now, caffeine has to do. But before he can say anything, the front door opens and only moments later, Sam stumbles into the kitchen, followed by a gorgeous blonde woman who still holds her belly from whatever it was that made her laugh in the first place.

Dean can’t decide if he’s relieved or annoyed that he got cut short, in any case he’s not going to have that conversation with his brother and whoever the girl is in the same room. And he has to admit to himself that, secretly, he’s relieved that he can put it off, that he can put some distance between his emotions and Cas to get his head cleared.

“What’s up with you, little Miss Sunshine?” Dean leans back in his chair to look at his brother who shoots him an annoyed glance, he probably didn’t expect the kitchen to be occupied and now he’s faced with the humiliation that comes with having to acquaint his companion to his brother. “Thought you had work to do?” He rises a pointed eyebrow at the blonde, indicating to his brother that, yes he knows exactly what kind of work his brother has been up to.

It’s almost too easy how he falls in step with this role of the teasing older brother and he knows he’s a dick with how he’s ignoring Cas, but he just can’t bring himself to face that particular problem right now.

Sam actually blushes and splutters a bit as he tries to explain that he was indeed working and that Jess just offered to help him and he offered her coffee in return but didn’t bring his wallet and it’s at this point that he realizes that he just digs himself deeper and deeper into a hole Dean will never let him get out and he eventually falls silent, but not without muttering a muffled ‘jerk’ under his breath.

Dean foregoes the usual reply (bitch) in favor of smiling at Sam’s new friend. “Jess huh? Nice to meet you. How come this moose hasn’t scared you off yet?” He can hear Sam groan and his grin widens, especially when Jess aims a fond smile at his brother, and damn, since when did Sam get so lucky with the girls.

“Well it seems like my moose taming skills are still top notch.” She smirks at Dean before she pulls Sam into a long drawn out kiss that, judging by the look of shock and surprise on Sam’s face, was totally unexpected. Dean snickers silently at the expression on Sam’s face once Jess pulls away, her hand still buried in his ridiculous long hair and looking more smug than should be possible for any person on this planet.

Sam slumps down on the one unoccupied chair at the kitchen table, and Dean doesn’t need more incentive to get up to make another round of coffee, offering his chair to Jess in the process. He doesn’t miss the forlorn expression on Cas’ face who suddenly seems so out of place in his formal getup, but he forces the thoughts away as he listens in on the conversation that ensues. Thank goodness, his brother is a better person than he is and he actually includes Cas in it.

Jess is nice, Dean decides when he puts down the mug in front of her, not only does she make Sam laugh, she also has her own opinions and is not at all afraid to voice them. He makes a mental note to tease Sam a lot more about this but for now he’s going to eat his severely neglected pie. The pie has unfortunately cooled down again, but he’s too lazy to remedy that so he’s stuffing his face with it anyway. Cas on the other hand, hasn’t touched his slice at all, and one glance shows that he doesn’t want to meet Dean’s eyes. Not that he can blame him for that.

It’s not that he won’t talk to Cas, he will, he’s just not ready for that yet. He needs time to sort through the mess in his head and heart and it wouldn’t be fair to dump all that on Cas before he’s even sure of his feelings himself. At least that’s what he repeats to reassure himself, that he’s not chickening out like the giant coward he is.

There’s no way someone like Cas would fall for him. Not only is Cas beautiful beyond description, no, he’s also brilliant and funny and all kinds of considerate. Not at first glance, no, but the time Dean has spent with Cas has shown him just how deep Cas’ feelings can run, and his smile alone is enough to make his heart explode out of his chest. But good things don’t happen to Dean Winchester, so instead of trying just to get rejected he’d much rather pretend that this is just some small crush that will go away if he’s ignoring it long enough.

So maybe he won’t talk to Cas after all, because he’s a coward, and much rather live in uncertainty than get a harsh truth he can’t handle.

“So get this.” Sam starts and Dean internally groans, because whenever Sam starts a sentence with ‘so get this’, he’s in for a long story of whatever happened to him. But he feigns interest regardless, because Sam’s his brother and he has a girl with him that definitely has a thing for him and a bit of big brotherly support can never harm.

“I talked to Professor Blake this morning and she told me that she has reason to believe that my professor has embezzled funding money. And he apparently takes the research funding that is intended for me into his own pocket.” Dean frowns at that, sure he has never met that Dick Roman guy, but he’s so far heard mostly bad things from Sam and he can’t say he likes the idea of someone screwing over his brother.

“Professor Blake was pretty surprised when I told her that I hadn’t started yet with my work, because to her knowledge I got funded already, _twice_.” Sam’s voice is bitter and Dean feels torn between punching someone, preferably Dick, and kissing Jess, because she’s a real babe and puts a comforting hand on Sam’s shoulder and looks properly pissed at the same time. She’s golden, Dean decides then, he needs to talk to Sammy about her, she’s definitely a keeper.

“But once that Dick guy is outed, you should get your money, right?” Dean asks, because he has no idea how universities work, it all seems awfully complicated though.

“It’s not that easy.” Jess interjects. “Professor Roman has to pay the money back and then we have to go through a lot of paperwork and Sam can only continue if another professor takes over as his supervisor. Sam’s field is rather special, with the sole focus on computations and programming so he’s going to need someone from this field, but so far professor Roman is the only one with that expertise.”

“Hold on.” Dean lifts a hand to emphasize his point and, by extension, his confusion. “Are you saying that if this guy gets fired, Sam can’t finish his PhD?” That can’t be true. They can’t do that.

“Well not at my university, at least.” Sam shrugs as if it’s no big deal, but it is and Dean can tell just how hard it is for Sam to pretend it’s not. “Or I could switch my focus and do something else. Get more into practical applications or something.”

“But you have some kind of scholarship. Shouldn’t it be in their best interest to keep you where you are? I mean you’re good at it, aren’t you?” He can’t help but flick his eyes to Cas at his words, because as little as Sam has actually worked on the guy, he has made some decent progress from his first day. That could as well be attributed to Dean and all the things he’s shown Cas so far, but it’s unlikely that he’s responsible for _all_ of this. Sam is the smart one after all.

“There’s nothing they can really do.” Jess says, with a hint of sympathy. “Professor Blake said, she would take him in a heartbeat, but she’s in a total different field. She just supervises the funding, that’s why we talked to her in the first place.” Dean can’t help it, he feels proud of his brother for charming a professor who has nothing to do with his research into saying something like this. But no, charming is more Dean’s MO, Sam doesn’t need to charm, he’s the genius in the family, he _impresses_.

And it’s nice to see that this Jess girl apparently isn’t just some fling he picked up on his way home, since she seems genuinely concerned and already emotionally invested. “That’s hardly fair, is it?” He comments dryly, but in truth he’s outraged, he wants to hit someone, preferably someone who has the power to grant Sam’s funding. But he’ll still need a supervisor, even though that doesn’t make any sense, at least to Dean.

“Why d’you need a supervisor anyway? Can’t you just do your research without one? Don’t tell me you still need someone to hold your hand whenever you’re doing something?”

Sam rolls his eyes but, hey, Dean is just brainstorming and his brain to mouth filter is not always working at full capacity.

“It’s not that easy Dean. I don’t really need a supervisor, I could do everything on my own just fine, but it’s not allowed. Some kind of legal shit, they need someone to be responsible if I screw up.”

“That seems highly ineffective.” Cas comments out of nowhere and Dean notes with pride that he ate the whole pie somewhere between Sam and Jess’ arrival and this exact point in their discussion. Jess actually looks startled and Dean suddenly remembers that no one bothered to introduce them so he’s quick to remedy that.

“Jess, that’s Cas by the way. Cas, meet Jess, Sam’s girlfriend.” He winks at Jess when he says that and she doesn’t even blush but instead winks back, and alright she’s awesome. Sam on the other hand…

“Anyway.” Sam forces out once he has stopped spluttering. “They had this incident a few years back, where a PhD built a bomb in the chemistry department and no one noticed until it was almost too late. He said it was for his dissertation and that he wasn’t going to use it, and no one really knew what his project really was about, because no one felt responsible so he could basically do what he wanted. Ever since then you need a supervisor who goes through all your project planning with you and you generally have to do everything they say or else you’re screwed.”

He scrunches his nose, and Dean can understand why he’s always been so frustrated with his Dick.

Shut up, Dean is hilarious.

But still, building a bomb on research funds is kind of badass.

“What exactly do you want to write your dissertation about anyway?” Maybe it’s a bomb.

“Dean really? I’ve been talking about nothing else for the last weeks and you still don’t know?” Sam gives him his best bitch face and Dean just shrugs his shoulders. He’s more a hands on guy, and all that theoretical crap about binary codes and programming languages that contain an unhealthy amount of punctuation, is way above his understanding.

“I’m trying to determine if there is some kind of evolutional effect on soulbots and their programming when they’re exposed to everyday life. Basically I want to see if there’s any form of adaptation.”

“I thought evolution was supposed to happen over the course of thousands of years.” Cas asks, before Dean can even gather his wits enough to try and understand what Sam has just said.

Sam smiles, obviously he’s pleased that at least one person understands him. “Yeah, usually yes. But things like that happen significantly faster with computers. Just like how we have developed humanoid computers in little less than a century, or like Moore’s law if you will, but not inherently exponential. But I’m mostly focusing on short-term adaptation in the behavioral programming, like putting you in a situation you haven’t been in before and see if you fall back on your intrinsic programming or if you think up something new.”

“That’s all nice and well.” Dean cuts in before Sam can launch on one of his endless rants about his studies, not that he really minds, Sam always gets excited and an excited Sam is a good Sam, but there’s a girl present, and even though she doesn’t look bored, there are certainly better things she had in mind they could do when coming here. “How about you show Jess around?” Dean offers, and yes, he knows that Bobby’s house is not the most exciting place around but Jess shoots him a grateful smile, so Sam will most likely get laid, sue him if he dared to have a part in that.

“We’ll think of something.” Dean calls after them and earns a grateful smile from his brother in return. 

“How d’you know all that?” He asks Cas once they’re alone again, because the silence is kind of awkward and Sam’s project is a safe topic in his opinion.

“Know what?” Cas tilts his head slightly, a curious expression on his face and it feels like their uncomfortable encounter earlier never happened. Or maybe that is just wishful thinking.

“About evolution.”

“I don’t know, the knowledge just happens to be saved on my hard drive.” And with that there is silence again, only this time Dean has no idea how to fill it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay two things: Rating will go up from here on out (there’s not much going on in this chapter, but I want to be save anyway. But don’t worry, there will be smut later. Nice and steamy. And also, there will be a lot of pseudoscience in some chapters, please don’t take it as anything else than that, pseudoscience. It’s all made up and doesn’t make any sense. Hooray for pseudoscience. And also I want to thank you all for reading and supporting this story ;)

It doesn’t take long for them to get used to the sight of Cas in his unusual attire. Sam kind of anticipated something like that, commenting on how he noticed certain errors in his system protocol, leading him to suspect that his common sense was pretty messed up, aside from the obvious evidence of course. When asked why he doesn’t fix it, he just shrugs and gives Dean that look that doesn’t need any translation, and they both know that Dean doesn’t want him to fix it because he likes Cas the way he is.

Bobby just took one look, rolled his eyes, muttered something about ‘idjits’ and returned his attention to his beer. And Dean doesn’t even bother to try and coax Cas out of his coat at least, because it’s kind of hot and he has all kinds of fantasies involving that coat and damn when did that even happen?

Sam is too caught up in his university troubles and Jess, okay mostly Jess, but Bobby has definitely noticed something but thankfully he’s not the kind of guy who wants to talk about everything. That doesn’t keep him from giving Dean stern looks every now and then, but he can work with looks, so he just shrugs nonchalantly and continues with ignoring the obvious elephant in the room.

It’s not that he goes out of his way to avoid Cas, he just makes sure to never be alone in the room with him, because he doesn’t trust his mouth to keep all those conflicting emotions inside. Because Cas’ presence does something to him, his body feels too warm whenever he’s close and his thoughts run in circles and he finds himself more and more attracted to those soft pink lips and he catches himself fantasizing about the feeling of stubble against his jaw and really, it’s all driving him slowly crazy.

Sam is on a date with Jess and it’s just another evening in front of the TV with beer and popcorn. Bobby has even gone as far as confining Zeppelin to the cellar because he ‘can’t focus with that blasted whirring sound’. But one thing is different. One thing that Dean just can’t ignore, no matter how much he tries to focus on the movie.

Bobby is sitting in his usual chair, legs propped up on the coffee table, he doesn’t even bother to take off his cap for watching television and honestly, Dean doubts he would even recognize him without it. He has half a mind to ask if he at least takes it off when he kisses Jody, but he doesn’t want to venture anywhere near that territory with his father figure. He’s just going to tease Sam a bit more, when he comes back from his date, or probably tomorrow, because it’s impossible to get a rise from stupidly happy Sam, fresh from a date.

Very mature Dean, really.

But neither of that is the real problem, no, the problem sits worryingly close to him, still wearing that ridiculous trench coat and how did it get so hot in here anyway? Dean realizes at this point that he had never been this close to Cas for this long. And that thought does some truly weird things to his body. He had battled with this sexual tension between them for quite a while now, it wasn’t easy, not with Cas popping up out of seemingly nowhere behind him to ask something, with Cas having generally no idea what personal space even means, but it never had been as bad as this.

Cas is sitting motionless, hands on his thighs like usual, but Dean swears he can see the guy breathing. It is just a slight, probably imagined, moving of his chest, but for some reason it is sucking up most of Dean’s attention. It is so human, and that thought leads to a lot of musings in what other regards he is human. He knows of course, he has felt the heartbeat and he has already seen him blush but those things all happened under rather innocent circumstances. No, Dean wants to know how much Cas resembles a human when he’s stripped down to his skin, naked and quivering while Dean has his way with him.

Dean sucks in a sharp breath, earning him a raised eye brow from Bobby, but damn what is he supposed to do. Now that he conjured the image of a naked Cas, stretched  out on this very sofa, breath shallow, goose bumps raised all over his skin, followed by a deep red flush and that heart beat raging in his chest as it pumps his blood down into his slowly swelling-

Suddenly there are two sets of eyes on him and he is vaguely aware that he is a) blushing and b) has just made a really embarrassing sound. And is that… oh yes it is, hello boner, fancy meeting you here. Could you please go away, like now?

The other two are still looking at him, and he awkwardly coughs in his hand, hoping that it gives enough cover for the definitely-not-a-moan-groan he just let out but nope, they’re not buying it. At least Bobby isn’t, and he gives him a ‘don’t jizz on my couch’ look and damn if that doesn’t put a damper on his boner, and returns his attention to the TV.

Cas keeps looking however, and the fact that he probably doesn’t even know what just happened isn’t really helping, not when his eyes bore into him and seem to peel away every layer of his being until there’s nothing left but his soul. He can barely suppress a shudder and no, that is really not helping.

It sparks Dean’s defense mechanism and he throws on a cocky grin, throwing an arm over the backrest as he leans into a seductive position. “Like what you see?” He winks and the resulting reaction is almost enough to wipe that grin clean off his face and leave him with mouth gaping open and eyes bulging.

Almost.

Thank goodness.

But Cas is blushing, honest to god blushing, and he looks at Dean with wide, nearly terrified eyes and then he moves his head slowly back to the television but his eyes stay wide at least for another minute.

Well that was unexpected.

And hello again boner, long time no see.

Dean wonders offhandedly, while desperately trying to focus on the TV in front of him, if this is some kind of punishment for all his sins. No living being should be allowed to be this hot. But Cas is not a living being so he has all the right to be as gorgeous as he wants and damn that boner is persistent.

Cas is watching him all throughout the evening, not directly but out of the corner of his eyes and Dean has a hard time focusing on anything else but that. Granted, that had been the case for the evening even before his ‘accident’, but now it is downright impossible. He is sure he can actually _feel_ Cas’ stare on his skin, it sends all kinds of shivers down his spine. Needless to say it doesn’t help his boner situation at all.

But Cas, oblivious as ever, stares on, and finally Dean has enough and leaves for an ‘early night’. Early night, my ass, he’s so going to take a cold shower. Or maybe a warm one, he hasn’t cleaned the pipes for a while after all. He chooses to ignore that he will most likely end up jerking off to the thoughts of a bot. 

He has done worse.

Probably.

Okay definitely, he’s definitely done worse.

He ends up in the shower anyway, and it’s not long before those images resurface, and the water is really cold but hey he hasn’t jerked off in a while and he feels like he deserves the treat and so he switches the water to a more bearable temperature. It doesn’t take long and he’s immersed in the feeling of his hand rubbing over sensitive skin, the steady beat of water drowning out the low gasps and moans he lets out as images of a naked Cas sneak their way into his imagination.

It’s far too easy, really, to imagine Cas on his knees, water spilling down his face as he closes his mouth around Dean’s cock, looking up through his lashes, his cheeks hollowed out and flushed a delicious red and oh mother of freaking pie, he’s coming already, and it didn’t even took him five minutes.

Well, damn.

Dean watches as his spunk disappears into the drain, his legs still wobbly with the aftershock of his orgasm and he can’t quite wrap his head around what happened. Sure, he had some wild fantasies before, some of them happening in the shower even, but it had never been this intense.

To think that Cas didn’t even do anything except for sitting next to him and watching a dumb TV show. What would it even be like if Cas actually touched him? Or if he just looked at him while Dean was pleasuring himself, those blue eyes trailing over his body, watching his every move and now is maybe the moment for this cold shower, because he absolutely won’t jerk off in the shower to the thought of the same guy _twice_. Well at least not twice on the same day.

He finishes up his shower, banishing all thoughts of Cas from his mind and since when does he have such a raging libido anyway? He hasn’t gotten laid in a while but that has never had that effect on him before.  And usually, if it gets too worse, he just goes to hit town and find a girl or two, or sometimes a boy and after a good night of sweaty bed sports he could hop right back into his usual schedule.

Judging from the sounds that come from downstairs, the television is still on and that means that at least Cas is still awake, because he doesn’t sleep and Dean has the sudden urge to go down there and push him back against the couch and kiss him and-

It’s almost ridiculous really. A few weeks ago he was fine, his small world was pretty black and white, bots, while not necessarily evil, were bad and now everything was washed in grey and bots weren’t as bad as he liked to believe and some were actually nice and there was one he’d like to fuck…

Yeah, let’s face it. Dean Winchester wants to bone a bot. Ain’t that terrific?

 Maybe it should surprise him more, or probably even shock him, but to be honest Dean is well beyond caring. Cas is hot, there’s nothing wrong with that and he’s too much human to ever mistake him for just a machine. Or rather he seems to become more and more human with every passing day. And what was it that Sam said, there seems to be some free will going on with bots anyway, or else his thesis would be pretty pointless. So Cas is even more like a human that the commercials had let on, he looks and talks like one, he behaves like one and apparently he also thinks like one. So really there is no downside. He can’t even get stds, heck, he is perfect.

Dean might have been just slightly aware that he is making excuses, that he ignores a big chunk of reasons why he should think this through a bit more rationally and less penis -driven, but he can’t think of any of those reasons right now. And it isn’t like he is going to make a move on the guy anyway. Cas is gorgeous and as he has proven recently, smart as fuck, he is at least five classes above Dean, who is all kinds of messed up and who doesn’t deserve someone as awesome as Cas.

And why would Cas even want him? He’s nothing special, he dropped out of school and works as a car mechanic who still lives in the last century, he listens to the same five tapes of music over and over again and he wasn’t able to keep their family together and that’s not even half the shit he’s done. There was a time, after Sam had left for Stanford and his Dad had succumbed more and more into his alcohol addiction, when Dean had been in a very dark place, desperate to fill the hole that his brother had left. He had gotten into some shady business, done some things he really isn’t proud of and really how his family (- Dad, + Bobby) accepted him back is beyond him.

He has talked to Sam, eventually, about a few things that he’s done, but has kept the most of it to himself, he can’t stand to see the disappointment in his eyes when he realizes what a fuck up his brother really is.

There is no way that Cas would ever want someone like him. Cassie has made that point abundantly clear, he doesn’t deserve more than mindless barfucks. He should be happy though, at least Sam has found someone in Jess and if his little brother adds up to something in his life, that will be enough for Dean.

Despite the late hour, showering and reflecting on his life choices has eaten up quite some time, he finds it hard to find sleep. Tomorrow is a work day and he needs his rest but his thoughts keep circling and he just can’t seem to get those blue eyes out of his mind. It’s like Cas’ eyes are a ghost that’s haunting him and he’s all out of salt.

Dammit, he really shouldn’t have marathoned the first two seasons of that mystery show about the ghost hunting brothers. But hey, it’s about two brothers and if that isn’t awesome he doesn’t know what is.

It’s uncomfortably warm under his blanket but the moment he pushes it off the air is cold on his sweat dampened skin. He tosses and turns and when he finally slips under he’s startled awake by an all too familiar voice.

“Dean.”

He jerks and almost topples out of bed and he has to scramble to find the switch to his bedside lamp. Cas is standing in the door and how didn’t he hear him, he couldn’t have been that far gone, could he?

“Dammit Cas.” He rubs his eyes and sits up, only half aware that he is pulling up his blanket to cover his naked chest. “You can’t just… what do you want?”

“I don’t understand the complexity.”

“You don’t, what now?”

“Natasha claims she loves Brad, but she is seeing his brother Chad behind his back and now she is pregnant with Matt’s child. Matt, he’s the long lost half brother that just recently returned.”

Oh, he’s talking about that TV show, ‘Family Ties’. Dean faintly remembers there being a marathon on this night.

“And?” He is way too tired for this shit.

“I don’t understand the significance of all their names having to rhyme.” And Cas just looks at him with that confused lost puppy look and it’s obvious how hard he is trying to understand the problem at hand. He can’t be mad at that face, can he?

“Listen Cas.” Dean rubs his eyes to gain a few moments to gather his wits. He has been half asleep after all and the complex science that is a soap opera needs an alert mind. “Matt, Chad and Brad are all the sons of Pat, well Patrick actually, but he’s a douche who thinks he needs to remind his offspring whose groins they have to thank for their existence, so their names all have to rhyme with his. I think there is also a daughter somewhere, Katherine, Kat to be precise.”

What?

The show’s a classic.

“And Natasha is a lying, conniving bitch who wants to get revenge on the family for her mother for some ominous thing that happened in the past and that’s why she screws with them. The names don’t hold any significance further than that.”

“I understand.” Cas frowns, but it’s more an ‘I am in deep thought’ frown than it is ‘I am slightly mad at something I don’t understand’, and Dean can’t help but grin, because seriously, the guy is adorable.

He’s still standing there when Dean has fluffed up his pillows in an obvious attempt to signal that he wants to go to sleep now and he has to actually cough to get Cas’ attention. “Cas? In case you didn’t notice, I’m trying to sleep here.”

Cas looks temporarily confused but then understanding dawns on him and he actually blushes a little. “Of course. Apologies.” He turns around and Dean turns off the lamp and flops back on the mattress, hoping that this time he will find some sleep, when: “Sleep well Dean.” 

The door closes and Dean smiles in the dark.

Now he’s pretty sure he will.


	8. Chapter 8

It only gets worse over time, at least that is Dean’s impression. Cas isn’t even doing anything to provoke a reaction, he’s just there, ridiculously overdressed and a tad too stiff but still it’s enough to make Dean all hot and bothered under the collar. Really it’s not even funny anymore.

Cas bends down to greet Zeppelin in some kind of bot language and Dean is greeted with a face full of ass, as he so happens to round the corner at that moment.

Cas participates in the household duties, armed with a feather duster and Dean has to take cover in the kitchen because ‘holy shit Cas as a French maid’.

Cas bakes pie in the kitchen, and that one really isn’t fair, because come on. Pie and Cas? That’s cheating.

The list goes on and half of the things that set him off are freakishly innocent but it doesn’t help. And for some reason he keeps postponing his plans for going to town and blow off steam, it just doesn’t feel right and damn that really should trouble him.

It gets even worse though, because at some point Bobby decided that they could need a pair of extra hands at the shop and since they have a perfectly multifunctional bot at their disposal, Cas gets asked to help out. And as the friendly helpful guy he is, he immediately consents.

From then on it’s really only a downwards spiral. It is summer, it is hot and work clothes are only so much mandatory, as in Bobby doesn’t care if his mechanics run around with only a sleeveless undershirt, and all that wouldn’t be so bad if Charlie hadn’t coaxed Cas out of his work shirt, saying it was mandatory for the work force. Really, Dean doesn’t get why she even bothered, she’s on a whole different team, but secretly he’s grateful because holy mother of fucking pie, the man is hot.

Not that that was something new, but Dean had kind of assumed, what with his loose clothing (and admittedly the coat is too big) that he was more on the skinny side. And that’s just not fair because Dean had to work hard for his toned body and Cas just got his courtesy of the company.

The only good thing out of this is, that Cas doesn’t sweat. Honestly, Dean wouldn’t be able to handle a Cas, covered in sweat and grease after a day of hard work. Not that he can handle him dressed and covered in grease and dirty from a day of hard work.

But Bobby insists on putting the freaking cherry on the cake and he orders Dean to show Cas the ropes, meaning he has to get close to Cas in order to show him the finer workings of car engines. And as much as he likes the thought of bending Cas over things, he’s supposed to be working and Cas burying his head under the hood of a car, subsequently rising his butt into the air, provides almost too much distraction.

And Cas has little to no knowledge about cars, so Dean has to show him everything from step one. “It’s probably pointless to ask but, have you ever done an oil change?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Good, they’re obsolete anyway.”

“Why did you ask then?”

“Because people who build cars are dicks and they insisted on having at least one thing that needs regular changing so they invented these engines that kind of runs on electromagnetic radiation but the electrolyte needs to be changed every odd year or so. And the contacts have to soak in buffer every now and then.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“Yeah, never let biologists try their hands on engineering. It’s all nice and well, but it needs some nasty maintenance and don’t get me started on the whole recharging process. At least they ditched the IEF. Last I heard they were discussing to revive the good old gasoline engines, only with built in algae tanks that produce bio fuel on the go. Apparently you’d still have to add some kind of nutrient medium, but it would be 100% squeaky clean.”

“That isn’t so different from what is used to power me and my kind.” Cas observes and Dean is pleased that he apparently has no problems to understand all the technical terms and processes. “I haven’t heard of the phytoplankton powered engine yet. It would definitely be an improvement though not having to regularly connect to a charger.”

Dean rises an eyebrow at that. Now that he’s mentioning it… “Shouldn’t you, like plug in soon? I don’t know your specifics but Zeppelin needs a charge about every week.” Well Zeppelin is old and breaks down at least once a month, but you get the point.

Cas smiles complacently and Dean suddenly feels slightly patronized. “Zeppelin is a rather old model, and frankly, not in best shape.” Dean generously decides not to take offense to that. “It is to be expected that he needs more charging since his intrinsic batteries are likely to be weak at this point. I am mostly self sufficient, but I require at least an annual charging and additional sessions when I happen to exert myself.”

“So when has been your last session?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know.”

“Okay. Do you have at least some sort of sensor that tells you when you need a refresh?”

“Well my system tells me that my energy level is quite low, if that is what you mean.”

Dean pushes up from where he leaned against the side of the car he was using to explain Cas the basics. He takes a long look at Cas’ face before he shakes his head to himself. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“I don’t understand what there is to joke about.” Cas says, and he even sounds a bit indignant.

“Cas…” Dean starts but he sighs and rubs an oil covered hand over his forehead. “You should have said something.”

“I just did.”

“Yes, after a long talk about cars and motors in general. We have only one charger and that’s Zeppelin’s size. We need one for you and I can’t just go and buy one because they’re fucking expensive, which means I have to work extra, and even then I will have to pull a lot of favors and it will take time.”

Cas’ expression falls with every word Dean says and he pulls the blank over his face again and Dean knows what he’s going to say next so he’s quick to beat him to it. “Look, all I’m saying is that it needs time. I will get you a charger, hell if I have to take up a second job I’ll do it, but we might run out of juice before I can scrap together the money and you should have said something earlier so that I could have started earlier.” Now he almost regrets having bought Cas his expensive clothing. 

“Dean, you don’t have to do this.” Cas takes a step closer, bringing himself right into Dean’s personal space and that really doesn’t make it easier to think.

“I don’t? Then what Cas? Will you just use up all your juice and then stop moving in the middle of the day and we go and put you in the corner that you can maybe add a bit of youthful flare to the room? I won’t let you drain.”

“But I am dysfunctional.”

“So what? I’d rather have you, dysfunctional or not.” And Dean has absolutely no idea where that came from.

Cas smiles that crooked smile of his, and his eyes seem to shine in the blazing sunlight and that really isn’t fair. Dean is sure he will die of a heart attack in his near future because right now it feels like his hear tries to punch a way out of his chest.

“Thank you Dean. I-“

“Don’t even think of offering to work for the money yourself. You have almost no juice left, remember?”

“Okay.” Cas nods, still smiling and there is something in his eyes, a certain warmth that Dean has noticed there before and he somehow wonders if that has something to do with him, but that can’t be, can it? But there’s no point in wondering about that now, or ever, for that matter. They still have work to do and if Dean really is going to earn some extra money, he better not be lazing around.

He makes sure however, that Cas doesn’t overdo it, he doesn’t want to drain him all out of energy. Bobby, of course, is not pleased to hear the news, but he agrees on letting Dean work a few extra hours, namely the ones Cas was supposed to work, not that he will be able to pay much. Cas is still allowed to survey though, so that he can get the theoretical backgrounds for when he’s able to work himself. Sam isn’t really surprised at the news, he has figured that something like this was eventually going to happen, he didn’t expect it so soon though.

The ensuing argument about why he didn’t think it necessary to address the subject before, ends with Sam admitting that he didn’t think it was a big deal since he expected to get his funding and that would have included a charger. So really it’s all just bad luck, as usual and Dean resigns himself to find a weekend jobs for the next few weeks.

Chargers are expensive, even if they buy a used one, which, unfortunately, is difficult in this situation, since Cas is a rather new model and he needs a special charger type that is only compatible with his model and that means chances are slim that they find a used one. He does the math, twice times over actually, and comes to the conclusion that he should have the money in four months if he works hard. But Cas won’t have four months so it all comes down to favors and as much as Dean hates to ask for help, he has no qualms calling in a favor or two. That should reduce the time to roughly one month.

\---------------------

It turns out Dean just needs to pull one favor. Dean won’t go as far as to call him a friend, but they left on friendly terms, and that at least means something. He met him during his time on the shadier site of society and they worked together a few times. Frank’s a hacker and he got in some trouble with the wrong people and Dean ditched him out. It wasn’t that simple of course, but Dean doesn’t like to think too much about all the things he’s done in that time and that includes what little good deeds he’s done.

And it turns out that Frank knows a guy who knows a guy who sleeps with the gal who knows someone who just so happens to have a charger that fits their needs, and for some shady reason Dean really doesn’t want to think too deeply about, he’s willing to sell it rather cheaply.

Rather cheaply still requires a month of extra work, but it isn’t as bad as it could be.

But working at Bobby’s is not going to cut it entirely, the clientele is not what it used to be and Singer’s salvage’s old rusty charm doesn’t attract as many people anymore. Dean knows that they should think about a new image, but he likes the old scrap yard mentality of the garage and he prefers to work on the vintage cars with good old gas engines, and they wouldn’t get those if they polished up their image.

So Dean is forced to call in another favor, because no employer in his right mind would hire a dude for only four weeks. But Ellen is almost like a Mom to him and she can always use some help in the Roadhouse, so after a quick call and a tongue lashing about how he never calls, except when he needs something, he has a new part time job as a bouncer in the Roadhouse. And maybe he should be a tad bit offended that Ellen outright rejected his offer to work behind the bar, because she doesn’t trust his people skills, but she got him a job so he doesn’t complain.

That means however that he won’t have much free time in the next month but it’s for a good reason. Sammy tries to insist on getting a second job too, it was him who brought Cas home after all but Dean forbids it. Even without his funding, he has still a lot of work and responsibilities at university and Dean doesn’t want him to neglect his future.

And it’s not that bad, he likes Ellen and he looks forward to seeing her daughter Jo again. Jo is kind of cool, a bit much sometimes but he likes her. And maybe he can get Ash to check Cas out. Ash is more on the crazy side, a little like Frank, but he knows a lot about computers, maybe he can fix whatever is wrong with Cas’ memory core. That’s actually quite a good idea. If anyone’s going to find out what’s wrong, it is Ash. Sammy will probably be pissed that he didn’t get the chance to work it out but Dean won’t exploit Cas for scientific reasons. And Ash can give Sam the data afterwards.

 That day they at dinner, he tells Bobby and Sam about his plans of working at the Roadhouse, minus the Ash part of course, because he’s not going to have _that_ discussion, yet.

“What did you do to make Ellen actually hire you? Bat your eye lashes?” Bobby asks dryly as he opens his second beer.

“As if that would work on her.” Dean grins at the thought of the last dude who thought he could flirt his way out of his tab.

“So how’s Ellen?” Sam’s plate is loaded with vegetables as opposed to Dean’s that is mostly filled with meat. Even Cas has a plate, but he only got a children’s portion. He is theoretically able to digest food and convert part of that into energy, but it’s not nearly as effective as the digestive system of humans and too much food at once can be harmful.

“Good, I suppose.”

“Eww Dean, don’t talk while chewing.”

And Dean proves how much of an adult he is by sticking out his tongue at Sam.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Eat your salad, rabbit.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”                                                                                                                                                                       

Cas eyes the whole exchange with increased confusion, looking from brother to brother and finally to Bobby who just shrugs and drains his beer. Dean is actually surprised to realize that this is the first brotherly banter Cas has witnessed, and so he doesn’t quite know what to make of the situation.

“I detect no animosity, but you two are fighting. I don’t understand.” Cas is squinting again and he has that face he gets when he tries really hard to understand something.

Bobby snorts in his beer and shakes his head to himself. “Don’t try to understand it son. It’s a brother thing.”

Dean smirks and rises his bottle to Sam. “He’s right. We’re brothers and it’s kind of our thing to insult each other.”

“But don’t worry, it’s all good natured.”

“You mean it’s mostly good natured.”

“Yeah, like that one time when you put that itching powder in my pants?”

“Oh come on, that one’s a classic. And you got me back with that beer and the glue.”

“I remember that one, wasn’t that the prank war that kinda got out of hand?” Bobby throws in with a raised eyebrow.

“Bobby, every prank war gets out of hand. That’s kind of the point. Well not really, but what do you expect from Dean?”

“Yes, since I’m the only one who was involved apparently.”

“Is this normal between brothers?” Cas is making progress, he’s already figured out that it’s best to ignore the brother’s bickering and just talk to Bobby in the meantime.

“I wouldn’t know. Never had one. But between these two, it’s fairly normal. I actually got worried, it’s been a while since the last time.”

“Is this their way of expressing their love?” 

Sam actually starts to laugh and Dean glares at him, while Bobby just pretends to be a flower pot. In a way it is, but Dean prefers not to think of it as that, he doesn’t like to think about emotions, much less talk about them and he really doesn’t like to be called out on them. It pushes him out of his comfort zone and he was never good in handling that. And Sam knows that but that doesn’t keep him from forcing him into conversations about his feelings every now and then. And like the little shit he is, he enjoys it even more when Dean is forced into that talk by another.

Cas, in the meantime, is still confused and looks a bit lost while the table around him seems to have gone crazy all of a sudden. “I don’t understand.”

“That seems to be the common reaction.” Sam finally allows, taking a big gulp out of his glass.

Cas tilts his head inquisitively, seemingly mulling something over in his mind before he looks at Dean. “Is this another thing I should ‘drop’?”

 Dean looks up in surprise. He didn’t expect that. But it makes a warm feeling spark in his gut and it settles there, just a soft glow in the background, because Cas understands him. He knows him since only a few weeks and already he understands how Dean doesn’t like to be confronted about his feelings.

God, how is he supposed to withstand that?

Cas is too good for him. He gets him, after this short time, just like that, and Dean doesn’t deserve that. Cas is everything he could wish for in life and that is precisely why he shouldn’t get it. He has done too much bad shit in his time, screwed too many people, he’s a failure, a letdown and the only thing he has showing for him is Sam. But he doubts that Cas would be impressed by that, sure Sam has come far, but most of that was his own doing, Dean just helped with the start.

He realizes that Cas still expects an answer so he just pats him on the back, remembering too late the fiasco that was the last time he patted Cas. But then again that hadn’t been so much a fiasco, Cas had actually said he liked it when Dean touches him, and damn, why doesn’t he touch him more often then? Especially when it gets him the expression Cas is having right now. It’s a mix between surprise and a pleased smile and Dean can’t help but to transform his pat into a light backrub.

The smile he gets in return will probably haunt him through every dream for a week.


	9. Chapter 9

Working at the Roadhouse is both easier and more exerting than expected. He doesn’t have to do much as a bouncer, the establishment isn’t exactly picky with its clients and so he only had to get physical when one of the guests overstays their welcome, or gets touchy-feely with the wrong person. Surprisingly, bar fights don’t happen very often, so there’s nothing he has to get in for and break up. Ellen’s reputation is enough to scare most brawlers off.

He’s not even sure what the Roadhouse would need a bouncer for; every trouble that occurs can be handled by Ellen, Jo or in dire cases, both. He’s not going to think too deeply into that though, it’s an easy job and he gets paid, that’s all that matters. Ellen is a grown woman and usually knows what she’s doing.

But that means he has to stand on his feet for a long time and doesn‘t get to do much but listening and watching all the people inside. And Dean can’t really handle doing nothing for extended periods of time. He needs to be busy, he needs something to focus on, because his head isn’t a place he likes to be most of the time. Especially not when he’s constantly thinking about a certain bot and how the smallest things said bot does, affect him.

To think that not so long ago he was pissed at Sammy for bringing him home, how he felt cornered, because a bot, a soulbot of all things, invaded his house and his personal space, and how confused he was that he somehow liked it. He can’t even pretend to dislike bots anymore, even if he wants to, and honestly, he doesn’t. Because Cas is the best thing that happened to him in a long time, he gives him a sense of belonging, of peace and safety and he just wants to hold on to that forever. 

Sometimes he’s pretty sure that Jo possesses an uncanny ability, of showing up whenever Dean is close to a hysterical laughing fit. Or an emotional breakdown, he’s not too sure of which yet. Maybe both.

And that’s just classy Winchester. You’re at work, get your shit together.

“Okay Winchester, time to let your pants down. What’s up?”

Dean is startled out of his thoughts as Jo pops out of seemingly nowhere, clapping a hand on his shoulder. It’s well into the night, no new customers have arrived for a while and Dean just stands by the door, keeping a bored eye out for potential trouble.

“Damn it Jo, warn a guy before you jump him.” Dean exclaims, more surprised than angry. He hates to admit that Jo actually got the jump on him but she’s tough so he’ll forgive her. Besides, with that mother, she’s got to be sneaky to get anywhere.

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t like it.” She smirks and damn where did she get that cocky attitude. Probably from him and that should worry him, because his attitude is nothing but a façade he keeps up to fool his family into thinking he is whole and undamaged. Not broken. She shouldn’t copy that, of all things.

But he can’t let that show, ever, so he retorts in the same fashion. “Maybe I would.” He grins and winks at her and Jo huffs, before she grins too, slapping another hand on his arm.  

“But seriously, what’s gotten into you? You’ve been scowling and frowning at the wall for the last hour. Don’t tell me there’s nothing up.”

It must be bad when he didn’t even realize that he was doing it. Still he tries to deflect it. “Don’t know what you mean.” He shrugs, but it’s obvious that Jo’s not buying it.

“Yeah right, and Ash is a perfectly groomed gentleman, ready to go on a picnic with the duchess of Cambridge.” She glares at him for a moment but then her face softens and she leans back against the wall next to him. “I’m not saying you have to talk to me, but you should talk to _someone_.”

She’s right. He knows she’s right, but that doesn’t make it easier.

“We’ve got us a soulbot.” He relents, fixing his eyes on the opposite end of the room.

“I know, Ash almost fell from the pool table when Sam told him, he’s always wanted to get his hands on one. Sam actually said that yours is kind of weird.”

“That’s kind of an understatement.”

“I thought you don’t like bots?”

“I don’t. I mean I didn’t. That’s exactly the problem.” He sighs in frustration. It sounds even dumber now that he’s said it out loud. He really has some issues.

Jo just raises an eyebrow in response, but he refuses to look at her. A drunk stumbles past them but he finds the way out on his own so they ignore him.

“You like him? Is that it then?” He should have known. He should have known that Jo would put the pieces together, she’s learnt from the best after all.

Dean fidgets, and if he weren’t already not looking at her he would avert his eyes. It’s true, that one is obvious, but he has a hard time admitting it to anyone that isn’t him.

“You like him.” Apparently his silence was answer enough.

“Kind of.”

Jo sighs and shakes her head, but there is a smile in her voice as she continues. “Winchester, you really go for the weird or the ugly.” He’s offended, for a moment, before he remembers that it’s Jo and that is her way of telling him she accepts him and his choices. It’s not the big talk about emotions that Sam would put him through, but Dean prefers that actually. It makes things seem easier, more acceptable and that is nice for a change.

“Hey, Rhonda wasn’t ugly, she was just… special.”

“Special? You mean the makes-you-wear-girly-panties-special?”

“How do you even _know_ that?”

“You can’t hold your liquor as well as you think you can.”

“That is a false accusation and blatant lie! Joanna Beth, hasn’t your mother taught you any manners?” Dean raises his hands in mock horror, but he can’t hide the grin. Somehow, talking to Jo has eased his worries. She kind of has that effect.

“And what would _you_ know about manners? Last I heard, you grew up in a barn.”

“Well what can I say. It had four walls and a roof, and the hay was rather comfy.”

Jo snickers and punches his arm lightly and Dean pretends it hurts but he’s laughing too, and everything just feels so easy and uncomplicated. And then Ellen is on their asses, reminding Dean he’s supposed to work, but she gives him a hearty pat on the back and a fond smile before she drags Jo back with her behind the bar.

The rest of the night passes uneventful.

\--------------------

The conversation with Jo has actually helped, her easy acceptance has done a great deal to alleviate Dean’s worries and he feels pretty good when he finally falls into bed. It’s no surprise really, that he wakes up from a pretty intense dream with a certain ache in his lower body.

It’s not a good day unless you start it with morning wood.

Or so the saying goes.

Or maybe not.

It’s a Sunday and Dean has the day off, the garage is closed and Ellen refused his plea to work on Sundays, arguing that she doesn’t want Bobby to be on her ass for exhausting Dean when he needs to be fit and awake for work, Monday morning. He has a hard time imagining anyone on Ellen’s ass about anything, but at least Bobby would have the guts to try it. Then again he doesn’t want to think about anyone one Ellen’s ass and that thought process just got conveniently rid of his boner.

Things should always be this easy.

But they’re not and so he finds an almost motionless Cas sprawled out on the couch when he comes down for a late breakfast/early lunch. His first instinct is to dash over and see what is wrong but Cas turns his head slightly to look at him when he enters the living room so at least he’s not dead.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asks, hesitating. Cas looks kind of vulnerable in that position and he doesn’t want to make Cas any more uncomfortable than he already is.

“My energy level has reached an alarming level and I have consequently shut off every unnecessary body function and reduced the essential functions in a way to preserve energy.” Cas’ voice is normal but Dean notes how he doesn’t move his lips while speaking and what is even more unsettling, he doesn’t blink. He’s pretty sure also, that Cas doesn’t ‘breathe’ right now and his pulse won’t be there either. And that is just damn creepy.

“So you’re a snail now?” Dean pushes away his uneasiness, this is still Cas, the same Cas he’s gotten used to, over the last weeks, only in energy saving mode. Not unlike his cell phone likes to do whenever the battery reaches 15%, annoyingly reminding him with a beep.

Yeah okay, it probably isn’t smart to compare Cas to his cell phone, but hey, the analogy was fitting. In a way.

“I don’t see how I can resemble any form of mollusk.”

Of course, the joke is lost on Cas.

“Dude, you’re like slow and you barely move. I bet it would take you a few days to reach the kitchen.”

Cas just looks at him, his face eerily stiff and unmoving but he gets the impression that Cas would frown at him if he could move his face right now.

“Actually I haven’t reduced my moving speed, I simply chose not to move at all, since motion would drain energy.”

“Is it that bad?” Dean can’t help but ask. This is slowly getting to him, seeing Cas like that is really unsettling and he’s starting to get worried about the consequences if they don’t manage to plug him in before the energy runs out. And it’s still two weeks until then, hopefully.

“I don’t know how bad ‘that bad’ is, but I haven’t yet reason to reduce cognitive functions so it is safe to assume that it’s not ‘that bad’.”

“What would happen if your juice ran out before we get you to a charger?”

“I would shut down completely before that could happen, in order to preserve my functionality. You would have to recharge me completely before you could turn me on again. But that won’t happen most likely, I am still utilizing the electromagnetic field to generate energy, and it will be enough to power basic functions. This is an unfortunate downside to the design of my energy source. It is not able to provide complete autonomy. I hope they will fix that in later models but I fear it is just a hoax to trick additional money out of their customers.”

Dean can’t help but wonder if this is some kind of side effect to the whole energy saving mode, he hasn’t heard Cas this much at once and of his own accord since, well, he met him.

“Are you supposed to bad talk your creators?”

Cas shrugs. Or rather he attempts to shrug, but nothing happens and Dean is a bit freaked that he still managed to pick up on it, even though there was nothing to see.

“There’s nothing in my system code that forbids it, so I assume it is okay. Or maybe I have accidentally shut that part off.”

“You can do that?”

“Do what?”

“Shut part of your programming off? Like that protocol or whatever that keeps you from attacking humans, could you turn that off too?” And that is a damn scary thought, because suddenly all those safety programs don’t seem so safe anymore, and that means Cas could essentially turn on him at any second.

“Why would I attack humans?”

Except, he wouldn’t.

“You wouldn’t, I guess. But you could and that is kind of… scary.” It is even scarier, that he just admitted that openly. Damn, he’s getting weak.

“Dean.” Cas pushes himself up and something seems to flick over his face and then his expression is suddenly smooth again and he frowns at Dean, a stern look in his eyes. He puts a hand on Dean’s thigh and leans right into Dean’s personal space to stare as closely as possible in his eyes and Dean can’t even focus any more on the slight panic about Cas over exerting himself in the process, because he’s so close all of a sudden.

“I’m not going to attack any humans. I’m not like that bot that killed your mother. I don’t understand why you would think that.” And for one maddeningly hysterical second Dean expects him to blurt an ‘explain’, like a Dalek, but then he berates himself, because Cas isn’t a soulless monster like that, Cas is a good person, bot or not. Cas deserves a lot more than being compared to a Dalek of all things.

“I know you won’t. It’s just. I don’t know, I kind of thought that there are foolproof emergency programs or something, that spring when you have a system error or something that fries your inhibitions against killing humans, you know like an emergency shut down or something. I just don’t like the idea of them being something you can just turn off.”

“Dean.” And there it is again, that sure tone of voice that only Cas can use when he says his name, putting infinite nuances on that single syllable and Dean feels stupid for freaking out like that, there’s no reason to, really and Cas even thought it necessary to go back to full capacity and if he shuts down early, it will be his fault. And he’s just stupid and a failure and he doesn’t know how to even treat his friends right and here he goes again, assuming Cas is his friend while he clearly showed how little he deserves that.

“Dean. There aren’t just only programmed inhibitions against killing humans, there is also a conscience that keeps us from ever harming you. We are called soulbots for a reason. It might be artificial, but we all have a soul. We are built to love humanity, we would never think of harming any of you. And there must have been something seriously wrong with that bot, because you can’t just override the emergency protocol, but even if you could, I still wouldn’t harm you, ever. I won’t ever harm you Dean.”

And he’s so serious, eyes boring into Dean’s and no, he doesn’t deserve that, he’s just a loser with a too cocky attitude, and no one should ever look at him like that, like he has worth, like he is important. And Cas doesn’t just look at him like he’s important because he’s a human , but because he’s _him_.

It’s there, bright and obvious in the way Cas holds himself, comfortable in Dean’s proximity, in the way he looks at him, as if Dean was more important than the world and that just can’t be because Cas deserves more than the letdown that is Dean Winchester, who couldn’t even hold up the faith his father had in him. But Cas isn’t finished, and the next thing he says is like a punch to the gut.

“You are my friend Dean.”

He can’t stand it; he can’t stand that gaze, so he looks away. He can’t stand the truth so he blocks it out, because no way is that the truth. Cas must now, he’s too smart not to, that Dean isn’t worth it, and he’s only saying that to placate Dean, because he’s considerate and doesn’t want to hurt his feelings. Cas is so close, too close and he can feel his warmth, and that shouldn’t be because Cas is wasting energy, on him of all people.

“What is the matter with you?” Cas asks and tilts his head, squinting as he tries to figure Dean out. And it is too much, it is, because Cas gets even closer and he can feel his breath and fucking hell, he really pulled out all the stops.

“You don’t think you deserve this.” And there is so much wonder in Cas’ voice, and a hint of disbelief but that doesn’t matter because Cas has figured it out and now it’s all over. Cas has realized how worthless he is and he will leave, go with Sam to his fancy university and be his priced project for all the world to admire.

He chokes out a laugh. “Of course I don’t. You don’t know half of the things I did, but trust me when I say I’m not worth it.”

“I can see that you are a good person.”

“Then you’re not looking deep enough.”

“Good things do happen Dean.” This needs to stop or Dean is going to lose it.

“Not in my experience.”

Cas shakes his head, and there’s sadness as he keeps his eyes on Dean and a heavy weight is settling on his chest because he didn’t want Cas t o ever look like that.

“Dean.” He says, and this time it is soft and so full of emotion it takes his breath away. And Dean expects him to say something else along the lines of how he sees things in him that aren’t there, but instead he rests a gentle hand on Dean’s cheek and that gesture comes so unexpected that Dean is stunned into silence. “I’d like to rest now. Please, stay with me.”

Cas doesn’t wait for a reply, he just settles back, hand dropping to his stomach as he spreads out on the couch and Dean can’t help but follow the soft tugging on his sleeve as Cas pulls him down to sit and allows his head to pillow on his lap. It is so strange and unexpected but at the same time it settles a certain warmth in Dean’s belly so he allows it and somehow, even though he can’t remember when and how, a hand finds its way into Cas’ hair and rests it there as the other puts his system into standby.

And Dean feels at peace.


	10. Chapter 10

Two weeks pass with Cas mostly knocked out on the couch and then it’s finally time to meet Frank and his friend of a friend’s friend (or whatever) to get their hands on that charger. The affair is over quickly, thankfully, and he doesn’t have to endure Frank for long. The guy’s alright, most of the time, when he’s not anywhere near Dean.

The charger is smaller than expected, a rectangular box with a few extending cables and a tube filled with clear blue liquid sticking out of one side. Dean isn’t sure for a few seconds if something this small will actually be able to recharge Cas but then Frank launches into a longwinded explanation of the finer physics of robotics and Dean decides just to take his word for it. He doesn’t understand one word of it anyway.

It’s not that he can’t sic some people on him in case it doesn’t work.

Okay, maybe he shouldn’t actively think of getting a few of his old contacts to settle a score for him, he’s been down that road and he knows how that didn’t end so well. Even if the thought was just a joke. That territory is dangerous and he shouldn’t get familiar with it - again.

It’s a strange relief to hand over the money, it’s not that much, because favors and all, but it is still a decent sum but he gets something in return that is worth so much more. And that is even stranger, because he’s used to making sacrifices, for Sam, always for Sam, but this one is for someone else and that leaves a foreign taste on his tongue and he can’t decide if he likes the addition.

After all, sacrifices are never easy.

Frank tells him he never wants to see him again and that is fine, because Frank is just another line that ties him down to a past he’d much rather forget. He takes the charger and leaves, without looking back and if it feels like he just has shut another door behind him, that’s fine, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

 Sam and Jess are there when he returns home, acting conspicuously innocent and he doesn’t have to ask to know that they’re curious about the charging process. It comes a bit as a surprise, Sam should be used to it, he’s supposed to have done it before, but then again his whole focus had been in theoretical stuff, maybe he never got to plug one in.

That sounded unnecessary dirty.

While totally not thinking of Sam plugging things in, yeah thanks for that mental image by the way, Dean leads the two of them into the living room, where Cas is resting on the couch, eyes closed, after a long (one sided) debate, how creepy it is to watch TV while Cas stares on with his unseeing eyes. Cas wasn’t too responsive (he could talk but most of the time he chose not to) but he closed his eyes regardless.

At some point they had also shed their reservations about moving Cas around. Watching television while a motionless bot occupied the majority of the couch isn’t as much fun as it sounds. They also found out at some point that he stayed in whatever position they put him in, and they were totally not abusing him as a beer and popcorn holder. But Dean had too much respect for Cas to allow anything else, he might have entertained the thought of putting him in compromising positions and taking embarrassing photos but like he said, respect.

Sam’s ‘Dean please’ bitch face might have had something to do with it too.

“So how does this work?” It is Sam, of all people, who asks and Dean shoots him a face that clearly reads ‘seriously?’ and Sam just shrugs in return. He’s like that one guy from Big Bang Theory who only does the theoretical stuff and Dean has to start wondering why he knows all those weird TV shows from half a century ago.

Because TV today is total crap and not worth the time it would take to watch and so they have to stick to the oldies. Good times.

“Well we plug him in and hit ‘on’.” Or so Frank had explained.

“It shouldn’t be too different from Zeppelin, should it?” Sam asks, and looks from Cas to the corner in which Zeppelin is plugged to his own charger, green light indicating that he’s long finished but no one bothered to unplug him yet. Poor guy deserves some rest too.

 “Yeah.” Dean agrees, but makes no attempt to move. He just stands there, charger in hand and looks at Cas who just sits there, and it was really creepy for a while how he wouldn’t give any signs that he was still alive, or rather functioning, and it felt a little too much like sitting next to a dead guy. Until he got stuck in the middle of a popcorn throwing match, and is that popcorn in his hair? So they _did_ overlook a few.

He would react, if prompted, but most times he would just ignore everything that was going on, that little stunt with Dean two weeks ago had drained too much energy and it was either that or shutting him off completely. But since rebooting is kind of a bitch, and moving a lifeless and limp Cas is definitely too creepy, they decided to have the brain dead variant.

Jess looks from brother to brother and then huffs a breath as she takes the charger from Dean’s hands. “Have neither of you ever done something like this?” She asks, and that is definitely incredulousness and a lot of amusement.

“Well we did, with Zeppelin.” Dean makes a weak attempt at saving his reputation but Jess just laughs.

“Your turtle has a base station, he could technically plug himself in.” And Dean is not going to admit that he didn’t know _that_. Hell, he’s glad that their little ‘turtle’ hasn’t exploded yet. Counting the times he actually caught fire by some weird yet unexplained accident, he is long overdue. But he has grown on Dean and he’s a comfortable foot rest. Sam insists on vetoing the beer holder though.

“This one needs energy transformation. It takes the power from the socket and translates the electrical current into a chemical signal. That’s what this is for.” She taps her fingers against the tube with the blue liquid. “And these here,” She tugs at two cables that look different than the others, thicker and less giving. “split the signal up, one gets translated again, into another electrical signal that goes directly to the brain, the other stays as it is and goes to the central neural system.”

It all sounds vaguely familiar, but Frank had used a lot of complicated words and Dean had only been half listening so this is actually an interesting bit of news.

“You’re supposed to know that.” Jess shoots Sam a sharp glance and he just shrugs.

“I know the theory behind it, I just never plugged one in.”

Jess rolls her eyes, muttering something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘how you get anything done is a mystery to me’. Dean grins, but Sam shoots him another bitch face, reading ‘you didn’t know either’ and Dean just grins wider.

“So how do you know all that? I thought you were a doctor?”

Jess snorts. “I am. You wouldn’t believe how many people turn up with their bots and some weird problem for me to fix. At some point I figured why not, I could use the extra money, so I read up on bot treatments and started fixing them. It’s surprisingly similar to treating humans , well aside from the ‘my bot isn’t moving’ – ‘have you charged it?’ lot.”

Well that’s… crafty?

“Don’t forget the ‘have you tried turning it off and on again?” Sam jokes.

“Anyway, you should unplug Zeppelin, and probably everything else. Judging by the looks of it, this house is pretty old, I’m not sure if the wiring can take it. The energy requirements are pretty high and it could blow your fuses.”

“Wow, reassuring much.”

“Well, it’s a possibility. The overall energy consumption isn’t that high, but the initial uptake is immense, like when you flip on many electrical devices at once.”

“Can’t we use one of the sockets in the garage? The power supply there should be able to take it. We don’t need to charge car engines or anything but the energy use is pretty high on some days.”

“That could work, yes. But how do we get Cas there?”

“Maybe he has enough energy left to walk there himself. We should be able to check his energy level via the control panel.” Jess suggests and pats Sam on the back.

“I’ll get my screwdriver.” Dean sighs. He still doesn’t like the idea of poking Cas in his ear, maybe even less than before. He wouldn’t like it if anyone would poke something in his ear, albeit he remembers a certain volume of Busty Asian Beauties that explored a certain kink, involving voluptuous ladies (not a surprise there) and a lot of ear cleaning. That had been kinda hot, well after the ear cleaning was over.

Sam fiddles a bit with the control panel, pressing buttons until he gets the information he wants. “Well he’s at three percent, stable, but I don’t know how far he can get with that.”

And it’s more than creepy, how they stand huddled behind the couch, looking at the small panel, and Cas is just sitting there as if he’s sleeping but he can hear everything that is said. It’s just so easy to forget that.

“Come on Cas.” Dean puts a hand on his shoulder and shakes him softly. “I know you’re listening, get your metaphorical ass here.” He sees Sam’s bitch face out of the corner of his eyes, okay maybe that last part was unnecessary but he’s entitled to that after sitting through two weeks of an unresponsive Cas.

Since when did he become so needy?

Cas eyes blink open and he looks around as if to orient himself. “Hello Dean. Hello Sam. Hello Jess.” Cas’ speaks slowly and his motions are short and chopped.

“Yeah yeah, hello. Been there done that. Okay, how much did you get?” Cas frowns and it seems to be more strained than not. It really is time to get him charged.

“I’m not… sure? My cognitive functions are limited.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you hooked up and you’re up and kicking in no time.” He’s not even aware he’s doing it but when Cas’ lips twitch ever so slightly, he realizes that he has put his hand on Cas’. The smile is barely there and looks strained, like everything else he does, but it warms something in Dean’s heart. And that really should worry him, Cas is in sleep mode, scarcely moving but he still manages to make Dean’s heart flutter.

How can one single person be this amazing?

“Can you walk? To the garage?” Sam asks, kneeling in front of the couch to look at Cas. “We’re not sure if we have the energy requirements here.”

“Cas frowns again and it takes him longer than it should to find an answer. “I’m not sure. I’m close to shut down.”

“We’ll help you.” Dean decides and he motions for Sam to follow his lead as he pulls one of Cas’ arms over his shoulder. Sam  closes the panel after pressing a few other buttons and follows him around the couch. As long as Cas hasn’t shut down they can move him around, and he’s not this much heavier than a human of his size would be, so they should be able to carry him between the two of them. The garage is right next to the house after all.

It takes a bit of shuffling but they manage to pull Cas out of his seat, Jess close behind with the charger.

“I’m going to unplug Zeppelin, just to be safe. It could damage him, if the fuses blow.” Jess steps over and shoves the small bot from his charging platform. He beeps his thanks and proceeds to do whatever it is he does when no one gives him a task. Most likely cleaning, that bot sure likes to clean.

“The garage and the house don’t share a power supply.” Dean points out and he’s sure that would have earned him a reprimand from his brother, but Sam’s too busy coordinating his steps as not to fall over and drag them all with him.

“Well then I just helped you save energy.” Jess replies smugly. Sam chuckles and Dean has to grin too.

On their way out they run into Bobby who has a very confused looking Jody behind him.

“Is this some sort of crime I should know about?” She asks as she looks from the motionless Cas to the two brother carrying him. “Wait, I don’t really want to know. From what Bobby has told me, I am much better off in the dark.”

“Hey Jody.” Dean greets and Jess just waves the charger in the air as way of explanation.

Bobby eyes the device suspiciously. “Don’t break anything.” He grumbles and leads Jody into the house.

“Please hurry.” Cas’ voice is barely a whisper and sounds more strained than before. “I don’t think I can maintain operational mode for much longer.”

“It’s alright Cas. We’re almost there.” Dean tries to soothe, and he’s aware of how irrational this is, Cas is not dying, the worst that can happen is that they have to reboot him, and that is really not that bad, but he feels like he needs to assure Cas. After all, it can’t be comfortable to be this helpless, short of shutting down, and he knows he would want someone to tell him that things will be alright.

As cheesy as that sounds.

They drop Cas in the only chair in the small office at the back of the garage building and Jess goes off to set up the charger. Dean is loathe to leave Cas’ side but he needs to know how to set it up in case Jess isn’t there the next time. He squeezes Cas’ hand one time before he follows Jess to the spot where the power sockets are.

“You need to regularly check the transformation fluid, you need to change it once the color changes to orange. I think there’s some kind of indicator - anyway, the setup is pretty easy. You just plug it into the wall first and switch it on to make sure nothing blows and damages the bot and then you plug these two into the bot. One goes into the maintenance panel, the other to the control panel.”

“Sam you really should marry this girl.” Dean comments as Jess unrolls the cables and sets them up. Sam splutters and mumbles something incoherent, the only audible words being reiterations of ‘jerk’, but he can see the faint blush on Jess’ cheeks and the pleased smile that tugs at her lips. She doesn’t say anything though and just continues with the setup.

The maintenance panel, as it turns out, is at the small of Cas’ back and only opens through a command put in the control panel. It’s a bigger version of the control panel, more buttons, more slots and ports and a few cables sticking out. Jess shows him the correct ports, but really there is no magic, it’s kind of obvious which plug goes into what hole, with all the color coding and different shapes.

“Will you do the honor?” Jess asks and pushes the last cable in his hand, a small smile playing on her lips.

“I hope this isn’t some kind of euphemism.” Dean mutters before he carefully pushes the plug into its designated place. Nothing happens, at least nothing to the effect Dean had expected, but a small light starts blinking on the LCD display in the control panel, indicating that the charging has started. Jess stands up and walks over to Sam, receiving a muffled thanks and a peck on the lips.

“We should go, I think Bobby has some kind of barbecue planned and he could need our help.” Sam says and pulls Jess out of the room after throwing one last glance at his brother.

Dean is aware that they’re leaving to give him a moment with Cas, and he should probably think about what that implies, but he doesn’t want to bother with that right now. Cas looks so vulnerable, slumped back in the chair, eyes halfway closed and Dean can’t find the will to leave him alone.

Cas blinks and forces his head up to look at Dean. “Dean.” His voice is still weak and sounds tired and he has a hard time keeping his eyes open. It’s this moment, as strange as that is, that Cas seems the most human. “Please, will you stay with me?” He asks and his voice sounds so hopeful that Dean couldn’t have said no, even if he wanted to.

He takes Cas’ hand again, limp and almost like a dead weight, and he entwines their fingers, ignoring pointedly the implications of that gesture, because it just feels right. “Of course.” He says, and because standing is uncomfortable and because it is easier for Cas to look down than up, he slumps down on the floor, leaning against Cas’ legs and resting his head against the other’s knee. He doesn’t let go of Cas’ hand though and so he can almost feel every beat of power thrum through Cas’ body as his energy storage is replenished.

The position is not exactly comfortable, the floor is hard and the angle his head has to bend to rest on Cas’ knee is awkward but every thought of shifting to a more comfortable one vanish, when Cas puts his other hand in his hair. He doesn’t move, he just rests it there and Dean allows it, and he ignores, yet again, all the implications of their actions, because this is comfortable, not so much for his body, but for his soul.

Sam comes by eventually, with a beer and a plate full of various meats, courtesy of Bobby’s barbecue. He looks for a moment as if he’s going to say something but then he just puts the plate down and presses the beer in Dean’s free hand and leaves, and there is a soft smile on his lips that Dean has never seen there before, not in answer to something he did at least. And he should be worried, that he’s getting so close, that he opens up to possible harm, but he can’t find a fiber of his body that is willing to care right now.

“Your brother is very kind.” Cas observes as Dean temporarily retrieves his hand to eat. 

“Yeah, it certainly seems that way.” Dean allows after he has taken his first bite of steak.

“Are you implying it is a way of deceiving?” Cas asks, mildly surprised and Dean chuckles as he reaches for his beer.

“Naah, Sam is okay. My view of him is just a bit tainted, growing up with people tends to be disillusioning. But he’s a good kid.”

“He looks up to you.” Cas declares and he sounds awfully pleased for some reason. 

“Yeah, and isn’t there a million things wrong with that?” It was meant as a joke, but it comes out with more self deprecating than Dean had intended, and now he just sounds bitter.

“I don’t see anything wrong with that.” Cas’ finger move just slightly in his hair and Dean won’t admit that it actually feels good and no he is totally not leaning into the touch. Instead of an answer he turns his attention back to his food, really, there is no answer to that he can give.

What is wrong with that?

Well, except for everything.

Sam is the one who made something out of his life, and if anything Dean should look up to him. There’s simply no reason whatsoever why Sam should have any respect left for Dean, except he has, and that makes Dean happier than it has the right to.

He can accept that from Sam, because Sam is his brother and he wears big-brother-is-a-hero-goggles and he is allowed to overlook his flaws, because Sammy is all he has and Sam is what he could never be. Dad had always been proud of Sammy, but he was stubborn and too caught up in his stupid anti-bot campaigns to ever tell him, even when Sam went off to college he was proud, proud that Sam was his own person, could make his own decisions. Not like Dean, who was always only the mirror, copying his Dad in everything, but still failing in living up to his expectations.

So that’s what’s wrong with that. Sam was the prodigy son, the one that lived up to Daddy and how could he look up to the son who was nothing but a failure?

Daddy always knows best after all.

But Cas is talking again and his words don’t make sense but Dean listens anyway, because it’s Cas and bots don’t lie-

Huh.

Bots don’t lie.

It’s something Sam told him once, bots are like computers, binary codes, yes and no, but truth is, they are not really like computers, they have a soul -kind of- and they have a conscience and humanity, but the base rule is still the same, computers don’t lie. There’s no reason to, no concept, it has to be taught first and according to Sam there’s nothing hinting at that in Cas’ core program.

So bots can’t really be like humans.

Okay, that came as a surprise to exactly no one.

“You have every reason to be proud of what you are.” Cas finishes and his voice is so sincere and bots don’t lie.

Maybe it really is this easy.

Or maybe he is just misguided.

It is as if Cas has heard his thoughts, his hand tightens in Dean’s hair and then it disappears and for a short moment Dean feels like the floor has disappeared from under him and he is falling, falling an there is no one to catch him-

But then Cas’ hand is on his face, fingers pushing at his jar until he looks up and there it is, truth, faith, sincerity, nameless sentiments, it doesn’t matter.

Bots don’t lie.

Cas doesn’t lie.

He’s lost in the endless blue of Cas’ eyes, all the emotions swirling behind the irises and really Cas has made a big step from the emotional crippled bot he was when they met, to _this_. Dean couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to, Cas’ words from earlier still ringing in his ears.

_You are not worthless. You are smart and kind, you helped me, despite your initial reservations. You never discriminated me, you taught me, you were patient, you gave me everything I could ever ask for. You are the one I look to for guidance if I don’t understand things and you are always there to help me, explain things. I trust you._

_Your brother has every reason to look up to you, he told me what you did for him, you helped him through college, you sacrificed so much for him, how could you ever believe he wouldn’t have the utmost respect for you?_

_You have every reason to be proud of what you are._

From everyone else, Sam included, this would have been too much, too cheesy, too much of a chick flick moment, but this is Cas, emotional stinted Cas, who had to learn everything anew, who is still struggling with the simplest things, nothing that Cas says could ever put him off.

Because it is Cas.

The voice in his head sounds suspiciously like Sam.

“Don’t ever lower yourself like that again.” And there’s fierceness there, when did Cas learn to be so fierce? And it’s scary, because Cas understands, even without being told, how deeply Dean’s self-loathing reaches, he’s seen it and it is there in his eyes but he still doesn’t look away.

“I care about you, and I don’t wish to see any more self deprecating.”

_I care about you._

It sounds like a command and Cas has no right to order him around, except he does and that really shouldn’t sound so hot to his ears.

It shouldn’t please him that much.

It makes him happy.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks. I just wanted to let you know how amazing you are. Thank you for reading this story, and here's an extra long chapter for you. (You can expect more of those later on, yay) Anyway, don't forget to leave a comment and tell me what you think ;)

Dean feels like he’s walking on clouds for a few days after that. Okay maybe not clouds, because walking on clouds would be fucking scary, because there’s miles of empty space underneath you and also clouds are made of water and Dean really doesn’t want to end up as a pancake somewhere in Russia. (Because that’s where he most likely will land, chance of likelihood and so on.

But in lack of a better analogy, this one will have to do.

Life is good, Cas is fully functioning again and he kind of made it his life’s goal to follow Dean around as much as possible, watching him tinker with cars, observing with interest when he cooks, sitting next to him on the couch and really, he even tried to follow him into the bathroom once. Not that Dean minds.

Okay that came out totally wrong.

Dean doesn’t mind the company, but he certainly minds the intrusion on his bathroom privacy. Even if it’s Cas. Especially when it’s Cas. He has seen so much of Dean’s messed up psyche he doesn’t need to see the finer working of his body functions too –and that was actually planned as a deterrence but now Dean’s mind has gone into a certain other place and there sure are a few nice things they could be up to in that bathroom. Peeing not included.

It has been like this for quite a while now. Dean is used to have inappropriate thoughts, heck he usually acts on them, if possible, but Cas is different. Because he _likes_ Cas and Cas told him he cared about Dean and that hits almost too close to what he had with Cassie (that name, _that_ _name_ ) but even that thought can’t seem to keep him away.

Dean likes Cas, and there is nothing wrong with that.

Acceptance like that comes from talking with Jo too much. She has way with making things seem simple. And Charlie has inadvertently done her part too, by bringing up Cas in conversation, by inviting him to have lunch with them, and generally not giving a crap about conventions.

He could have quit his job after he made the money for the charger, but there’s still that hole that Cas’ suit tore into his wallet and Ellen offered him work behind the bar as a bartender (“the clients like your face” that must have outranked his lack of service attitude) so he decided to keep it. It’s more stressful than his job at the garage, a lot of drunk people shouting for beer kind of has that effect, but Dean likes it.

It’s the Saturday after the day of Cas’ charging adventure and Dean prepares for his shift at the Roadhouse when Cas knocks on the door of his room. That one actually took a while, Cas developed the nasty habit of just popping in at random times and it took a lengthy conversation about privacy and personal space until Cas finally agreed on knocking.

He looked almost disappointed when he did.

Maybe he liked the view of Dean’s exposed butt in the air when he entered that one time while Dean was in the middle of changing and had just bent down to pick up his shirt. Dean could have sworn he heard Cas’ breathing hitch. That might have been the reason why he was extra slow in putting on his shirt, watching the whole time as Cas’ eyes were glued to his chest. Then Cas had asked about the tattoo and Dean had told the story of how he and Sammy got inked and somehow they ended up watching Episode IV of Star Wars (don’t judge, you should always start with the original trilogy and forget about that Disney crap) in Dean’s room, sprawled out on the bed and if Dean missed half of the movie, that totally wasn’t because Cas was so damn close, brushing against him from time to time or because their hands touched while grabbing popcorn at the same time.

He had jerked off that night in the shower and this time he wasn’t even ashamed that the hand on his dick belonged to Cas’ in his mind.

“May I accompany you?” The question catches Dean off guard, at least he’s fully dressed this time.

“What?” Very smooth Winchester.

“I’d like to see where you work. Sam told me this ‘Roadhouse’ is a very nice place and that I should ask you. He and Jess are planning on going later tonight. I think Bobby wants to have the house to himself, Jody is coming over.”

Okay, how can he say no to _that_?

“Sure, but I’ll be working so I can’t be of much company.”

“That is alright, I enjoy watching you work.”

That should probably creep him out more than it does, but he can’t help feeling secretly pleased that Cas likes to watch him.

Ash is asleep on the pool table (again) when they come into the building, Jo is busy behind the bar and judging by the sounds, Ellen is somewhere in the backroom.

“Dean you’re early.” Jo greets, slinging a dirty towel over her shoulder as she steps from behind the bar.

“Yeah, I wanted to show Cas around before we open. Cas, this is Jo. Jo meet Cas. Hope you don’t mind?”

 “No no, it’s fine. Hey Cas.” Jo salutes and grins as she walks over to where Ash lies sprawled out, but not before winking suggestively at Dean. “Ash will like this.”

Cas eyes with growing confusion as Jo first sticks her finger in her mouth and then into Ash’s ear. The response is instant.

“Morning Ash.” Jo cackles as Ash almost rolls off the pool table in his haste to get away.

“Damn it Jo, that is the third time this week.”

“That’s something to think about Ash, don’t you think?”

Dean clasps his hand into Ash’s outstretched one and they share a manly handshake. He’s not too thrilled about touching Ash, god knows what had been on that table, but Ash has helped him out a few times and that entitles him to a handshake. 

“Is this a common human greeting?” Cas breaks in to ask and it is pretty obvious that he’s not talking about the handshake.

“Naah, that’s just Jo being nasty.” Ash dives down to look under the pool table, Cas watching curiously as he comes up again with a half full bottle of beer. He offers Dean the bottle but he really has no interest in sharing _that_ so he politely declines. Thankfully Ash doesn’t offer the bottle to Cas.

“Please don’t pick it up. And who are you?”

“I am Castiel.”

Ash’s eyes light up and yep, that is Dean’s cue to go and clean up the last bit of mess left from yesterday before the first customers show up.

“Cas, Ash here is going to check your system, he’s a pro and might find out what is wrong with your memory core or whatever. I’ll be here the whole time.” Dean indicates the bar and Cas nods after an apprehensive glance.

“Don’t worry, Ash is a genius.” Jo pats his shoulder before she moves away to arrange the chairs around their respective tables. 

Ash leads Cas away into the backroom and Dean has to stifle a laughter as he hears Ellen shouting about some chores Ash apparently was too busy with passing out to do, immediately followed by a friendly greeting and a little terrified sounding Cas.

“So that’s him?” Jo asks once there’s silence again. “He’s cute.”

“Hands off, Harvelle.” Dean replies almost reflexively, and now, if that isn’t something to think about. He’s developed a certain possessiveness over the bot and why didn’t he get the memo about that?

“Don’t worry. I don’t stand a chance, not with the way he looks at you.”

Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, have you actually seen how he looks at you? It’s like you are his guiding star or something. I bet he would follow you off a cliff.”

“He’s not a lemming.”

“I didn’t say he was, I said he would follow you if you were.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Certainly not.”

Ellen comes in and interrupts their friendly bickering, ordering Dean to carry in a few boxes from the backroom, and they finish the rest of the work in relative silence.

Eventually it’s time for the bar to open and the first guests fill in. Dean was nervous at first, that bar keeping would entail making fancy cocktails, but all he has to do is fill up beers and the occasional hard liquor. Oh and hand out peanuts, don’t forget the peanuts.

Dean prefers pretzels.

Ash and Cas come back a little later, Ash just shrugs in a way of explanation that he has no idea what’s wrong, and from then on Cas sits patiently at the bar and watches as Dean works. And okay, that really _is_ creepy, but he doesn’t really have an alternative occupation for Cas, and somehow he really doesn’t like the idea of Cas mingling with others. It doesn’t really help the creepy factor that Cas is totally out of place with his getup, but then again Dean has grown fond of the outfit, backwards tie and all, so he fails to see the problem. He uses the spare time between orders to explain to Cas what he does, how the beer hose works and what the best way to serve whiskey is (double, no ice).

That leads to Cas wanting to try whiskey and since the beer so far hasn’t been a problem, Dean figures that a shot of whiskey should be fine too. He forgets too often that Cas is a bot and not equipped to digest the amount of food and/or drink that Dean can consume on a good day. Basically he just likes to forget Cas is not human, makes the whole ‘I might have a crush on him’ business much more acceptable.

“Whiskey is an acquired taste.” Dean informs Cas as he pulls out two tumblers. He fills one with coke, because going for neat at once would probably just scare Cas off forever, and then adds whiskey to both. No doubles, because he’s working and Cas is a beginner. “The important thing is not to just drink all at once, you can do that when you’re depressed or something.” And it is unnecessary to mention that Dean has been there many times of his life, he really takes after his father, in all the bad things at least.

“Usually you smell the whiskey before and while drinking, that enhances the taste, but for you that would be overwhelming.” And Dean, frankly, doesn’t have the patience for that. He knows these things only because he googled them as preparation for the job, that was also how he learned that ice actually takes away from the taste.

The more you know.

Dean tosses back his drink (no patience) and closes his eyes for a moment. He didn’t go for Ellen’s most expensive stuff, but it’s still good. Cas is more careful with his drink, taking a small sip at first, testing the taste on his tongue before he gives an approving nod.

“Coffee is better.” He decides after he has finished.

“If you say so.”

Sam and Jess show up not much later and then Dean has his hands full because a new group of customers has arrived, all demanding beer and he’s glad he can leave Cas in Sam’s capable hands. They disappear into the crowd for a while and Dean is alone behind the bar, until Ellen decides he needs a break and shoos him off.

He finds the others at a table with Jo and Ash and they have a whole arsenal of shots lined up and Dean comes just at the right time to see Cas finish the last one of his.

“I think I’m starting to feel something.” He observes and Jo actually bursts into laughter, doubling over and holding her stomach.

“Did you just quote the Lord of the Rings?” Ash asks and judging by the slur in his voice, they have been at it for a while now. Dean slumps down next to Cas and gratefully takes the beer that Sam offers him.

“I’m not aware of any Lord who might have said that.” Cas tilts his head, squinting in his telltale universal gesture of confusion. “I didn’t want to be rude.”

“He meant a movie quote.” Sam explains, and Dean is relieved to see that at least his brother seems to be comparable sober. Jess catches his glance and shrugs her shoulders apologetically. Okay so he has drank something; he should probably be worried about his brother’s capability to hold his liquor. But he’s the last one who should say something; he is the poster boy for drowning problems in alcohol after all, after his father died that is.

“Ah like Star Wars.” Cas’ face lights up and it should be forbidden how cute he looks when he’s genuinely pleased with himself. “These are not the Droids you are looking for.”

“Luke, I am your father.” Ash gives a pretty good impression of the Darth Vader voice and the whole table erupts into laughter, Dean included, that is until he sees the frown on Cas’ face.

Damn.

“I wasn’t aware that Luke Skywalker was the offspring of Darth Vader.” Cas says and the laughter fades into an awkward silence.

“Well, we only watched the first movie.” Dean explains weakly, ignoring the incredulous look Sam gives him, clearly reading the annoyance that he was forced to watch all three in a marathon and Cas gets off easy.

“Sorry about that.” Ash shrugs and empties his last shot glass. “I kind of figured everyone knew that by now.”

“It’s okay.” Cas assures, “Dean already accidentally revealed that Luke and Leia were siblings.”

“Don’t worry. The movies are still worth it.” Jo starts to clear of the empty glasses from the table, earning a grateful smile from Cas.

“Dean insisted they were classics.”

“They totally are. But I suppose Dean will show you a lot of his classics, so if you want a way out better say so now, while there’s still a chance for you.” Sam jokes from his safe place behind Jess, earning another round of laughter.

“I’m quite content with sharing Dean’s favorite things.” Cas assures, and Dean is only partially thrown off by his odd choice of wording. The sentiment makes him far too happy to care much about that though.

“So Jess, what exactly are you doing?” Jo asks and leans over. “Dean told me you’re a doctor?”

“I am, I even got my own practice.” She smiles, and Dan likes that she isn’t too bashful about her early success in life. Jess is a girl that doesn’t need modesty.

“Wow.” Ash’s eyes almost bulge out of his head and for some reason that is so ridiculous that Dean starts laughing and soon the whole table is laughing, minus Cas who just looks around rather confused.

“Yeah, but I have to admit I didn’t finance it on my own. I’m more or less still employed by the university and in exchange for the facilities I have to take med students and show them the ropes.”

“I bet they’re all snotty brats.” Jo rests her chin on the table and as a result her voice sounds a bit muffled, and Dean starts laughing again but this time it earns him an elbow in the ribs from Sam. 

“Well some actually are, but by the time they come to me, they’re mostly cured. If not, I’ll make sure that they don’t want to be doctors anymore.” She gives an evil smirk and Ash almost falls from his chair as he stares at her with his mouth hanging wide open. “Nah, they’re fine mostly.  And cheap labor.”

“You go get ‘em girl.” Ash drawls, before promptly passing out on the table.

The evening continues in the same manner, alcohol, friendly banter and lots of laughter. Ellen allows Dean to take the rest of the evening off, only Jo has to up and leave from time to time whenever her mother needs help. It’s truly a wonderful night, and Dean feels wholly warm and satisfied when they finally decide to leave. 

Dean has only drunk his one whiskey and about half a beer and Jess is designated driver for Sam, so they split up in their two cars once they have properly said goodbye to the Roadhouse crew. Sam will stay over at Jess’ and Dean is too content to bother with making brotherly fun of him. He’s sure Sam appreciates it. Cas still doesn’t give any signs that the alcohol has affected him much, but there’s no way he’s letting anyone behind the Impala’s wheel that hasn’t passed his personal driving tests, so whiskey or not, Dean is driving.

It’s on the way back to Bobby’s, that Cas first notes something amiss.

“Dean, I feel funny.”

Dean chances a glance over to where Cas sits in the passenger seat, he has a confused look on his face (as if that were something new), but this time there’s a hint of concern too.

“That’s normal, you’re drunk.” It’s kind of reassuring to know that Cas is not completely immune to alcohol, Dean himself has quite the tolerance (nothing to be proud of) but even he would definitely notice the effect, if he had drunken as much as Cas has. He would envy him, but his main reason for drinking alcohol is the blissful ignorance that follows (that shouldn’t be a good thing) so immunity would kind of spoil it. And that in itself is a thoroughly messed up thought process.

Cas is silent for a while, but whatever it is that bugs him, it doesn’t go away.

“I don’t think this is an alcohol induced high.” 

“You sure? I mean you were throwing them back pretty heavily back there.”

“I know how alcohol intoxication is supposed to feel like. I researched it. This is different.”

“Okay. Different, how?”

 “There’s a tingling in my limbs, like a pressure in my blood vessels. It’s… peculiar.”

“Okay, is it a good feeling?”

“I don’t know. I-“ But Cas’ voice cuts off and Dean almost swerves into the opposite lane as Cas doubles over and makes a pained noise in the back of his throat.

“Are you alright?” Dean curses under his breath, he can’t check on Cas as long as he’s driving, but there are no free parking spaces on the road they’re currently on so he just slams on the breaks and hopes that no one will come from behind them.

“Cas, what’s wrong?”

“It hurts.” Cas groans, fingers digging into his arms as he tries to breathe through the pain. “Like ants crawling under my skin.”

Dean has to catch Cas’ hands to keep him from scratching, from ripping off the skin from his arms as he tries to fight the itch that is crawling under his skin.

“Calm down, Cas. Cas! Look at me.” Cas forces a deep breath and looks up, eyes wide with panic but he focuses on Dean and stops scratching in favor of digging his fingers into the palm of Dean’s hand. “Just breathe. I’m going to call Sammy, he will know what is wrong. Just stay strong, okay?”

It’s unreal how much panic he feels, he hasn’t felt this much panic since that one time Sam ran away and they didn’t find him for a week. And that doesn’t even add the fear he had felt the moment he had finally found the courage to tell his Dad that he had lost Sammy. But this is Cas, and Cas is important, but he doesn’t know what’s wrong and Cas’ grip is so tight he’s sure it will break his hand but that’s okay as long as he doesn’t rip off his skin.

Humanity is surely overrated when it comes with all that pain.

Sam answers after the third ring, sounding tired and a bit annoyed, and how come they’re already at home yet?.

“There’s something wrong with Cas, I don’t know what, he’s in pain.” The words come out rushed and he can’t hide the panic. Dean doesn’t like this feeling of helplessness, he needs something he can get his hands on and do something, this is too much for him.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, he said his skin was itching and now he can’t stop scratching.”

“Did he do someth-“ But Sam is cut off and then there is Jess, and thank god for Jess.

“Dean it’s the alcohol. He drank too much, his system can’t handle it. I should have thought of that earlier, I completely forgot, I’m so sorry.”

“Jess.” Dean cuts in to her apologies, there’s no time for that.

“Right, sorry. You need to get his electrolyte changed as soon as possible, if you wait too long it could seriously harm him. I have an exchange station for bots at my practice, we’ll meet you there.”

Jess quickly describes the way to her practice and then Dean slams his foot down on the gas, Cas’ hands still grabbing on to his. It’s almost impossible to drive like this, but he’d rather Cas abuses his hand as needle cushion than that he claws at his own skin. He steers with his knees whenever he needs to change gear and he skids past a potential accident more than one time, but Cas is breathing steadily, although it sounds labored and that is all that Dean needs to keep going. And all the while Dean keeps up a steady string of assurances, telling Cas that it will be okay, that he’s here and that he won’t leave, but above all that he’s sorry.

He should have known, shouldn’t have given Cas his firs whiskey, shouldn’t have encouraged him to go with his brother to drink, because Cas is his responsibility and he should have known. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if anything happens to Cas.

He’s angry too, angry at Jess for forgetting, angry at his brother and Jo and Ash for getting him into their stupid game in the first place. But he forces that feeling down, it’s unfair and he can’t be angry right now, Cas needs him.

“Dean.” Cas’ voice is strained but he looks at Dean and it breaks his heart to see pain etched into Cas’ usually so serene face. “It is not your fault. I shouldn’t have ignored the warning signs.”

Dean forces a calming breath. Tries to focus. He almost skimmed another car, it wouldn’t do them any good if he crashes them now.

“Warning signs?” Good, focus.

“Yes, I mistook them for signs of inebriation, but clearly my system was trying to warn me. I should have been aware of that but since my memory core got damaged I have lost a lot of data.” Cas still sounds strained but the pressure of his nails in Dean’s hand has eased and he doesn’t look as pained anymore.

“You feeling better?”

“My body is handling it, but I should get an electrolyte exchange anyway. Jess is right, there could be potential harm to my body.”

The building with Jess’ clinic comes up, Jess’ blue Ford already waiting outside and there is light behind the ground floor windows. Dean pulls in next to Jess’ car but Cas’ hand still gripping into his holds him back before he can get out.

“Dean.” There’s a heavy frown on Cas’ face, caused by pain and not extensive thinking, but he’s focusing his eyes on Dean. “Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault.” Dean wants to look away, the guilt is still there but Cas doesn’t let him go until he lets it go and nods. Cas smiles at him, strained but it still sends warmth into Dean’s stomach.

Cas has difficulties walking and so Dean has to help him inside. They follow the light into one of the treatment rooms, where Sam and Jess are already waiting. There’s a chair and next to it is a small machine, a little like the charger only with a lot more tubes and less cables.

“Let me check on him first.” Jess hurries over and helps Dean to drop Cas on the chair. She takes out a stethoscope but instead of going for the chest she presses the end against Cas’ arm. She frowns and pulls back, shaking her head.

“I can’t hear anything with all your clothes in the way, could you take of the trench coat please?” She asks and Cas nods, but he seems out of it and worry starts to nag at Dean’s gut again. It takes Sam and Dean combined to peel Cas out of his coat and Jess pushes up his jacket sleeve for good measurement.

“What are you listening for?” Sam asks, catching on to Dean’s nervousness and providing a distraction, like the good little brother he is. Apparently the severity of the situation has done good deal to sober him up.

“There’s a distinct hum when the electrolyte is working as it should, you can usually determine when a change is necessary when the humming gets irregular.” She listens again and then there’s a crease of worry Dean doesn’t like at all.

“We should hurry, the compressor is failing.”

Dean’s stomach clenches and he thinks he’s going to be sick. Cas looks pale and Dean is sure he would be sweating by now if he could.

Jess pulls on gloves and then she sends Sam off to get her a few things. She’s sitting on one of those stools with roles that doctors seem to favor, rolling through the room to get various things.

“This is unfortunately a rather messy procedure, I will need your help Dean. Thankfully we don’t have to work sterile.” She beckons him over and pushes a package with ‘nitril gloves’ in his hands. “You need to hold his leg while I make the incision. I don’t own an anesthetic that would work on bots so we will have to do without. But I have painkillers for later.”

But Dean is no longer listening, because _incision?_ He meets Cas’ eyes and they’re as wide as his. “You want to _cut_ him _open?_ ”

“Have to. There’s no other way to get the electrolyte out. It would take to long if we laid an infusion.” Sam returns, carrying a bucket, a towel and four blood bags and then there’s Cas’ hand on his arm and he looks into pleading blue eyes and there’s no time, because _the compressor is failing_ , and Dean is on his knees, grasping Cas’ hand and he’s not ready, but it doesn’t matter because Cas needs this or else he-

He can’t even bring himself to finish that thought.

He remembers Cas’ voice, as clear as a day, ‘my body is handling it’, but it obviously isn’t and Dean has to force his own breath to calm or else he’ll just jump out of his skin. Cas needs, him, he has to stay calm.

Jess takes one of the blood bags, only it isn’t blood, it is electrolyte, dyed red so that it would be more humanlike and that should make him sick but right now all he cares about is that it will save Cas, really, the color is not important.

She hooks the bag to the machine, into a special slot at the side of it and Dean is confused because aren’t infusions supposed to hang as high as possible so that gravity can do all the work?

“Cas, you need to take off your pants, or else I have to cut it open.  And your jacket too.” Jess says gently and again they need both Sam and Dean to help Cas stand for long enough so that Jess can take off his shoes and pull off the pair of pants. Dean tries pointedly not to look as Cas sits down again, legs spread slightly apart and he still can’t believe that they even bothered with all that body hair.

But his attention is caught by Jess again as she puts the towel on the ground under Cas’ left leg and motions for Dean to hold on to it. “You need to hold his leg in place, I don’t want to do any additional damage when he accidentally twitches or something.”  Dean puts one hand on Cas’ thigh the other to his calf and grips as hard as he dares without hurting Cas.

She leans over and searches along the inside of Cas’ thigh until she finds the vein (or whatever it is the electrolyte vessels are called). “This will hurt, a lot.” She says, looking at Cas. “Do you want to bite on anything?” Cas shakes his head, but his fingers are on Dean’s hand again and he would like to squeeze back but he can’t because he still has to hold Cas’ leg in place.

“Sam I need you to get the tubes ready, pull on gloves first. We don’t need sterile but we don’t want any dirt in.” She stretches a portion of skin between index finger and thumb and then she carefully positions the scalpel Dean didn’t realize she held. He wants to look away, but he can’t, he’s strangely transfixed by the first drop of red liquid that blossoms on the pale skin, but then Cas’ grip tightens and there is a pained moan and his focus snaps to Cas’ face. His eyes are closed, brows furrowed and he breathes harshly through his nose.

“It’s okay Cas.” Dean whispers and he doesn’t look as Sam gives Jess the first tube and she pushes the beaked end in to the cut she just made, he just sees the pain increase on Cas’ face and he just wants pull him into his arms until it all goes away. But he can’t, so he doesn’t move when Jess puts on medical tape to keep the tube in place, but he does move when she directs his hands to Cas’ arm, pulling up the sleeve of his shirt and showing him the spots where to hold on to. Cas’ fingers move to his wrist but he doesn’t let go and Dean presses his whole body against Cas’ uninjured leg to give as much support as he can.

“This one will hurt worse.” Jess explains as she flips a few switches on the machine, awaking it to life with a soft hum. “We need vacuum to suck the electrolyte into your body, it can handle the pressure but it will hurt. I can give you the painkillers now if you want.”

At first Dean thinks Cas is going to decline but then he nods and Jess makes a hand gesture, sending Sam off to retrieve them from her medicine cabinet. She takes the tube currently connected to Cas’ leg and connects it to the machine and dumps the end of another tube, coming out of the machine, into the bucket. Red liquid is already seeping out, but it’s slow and hasn’t even traveled through half of the tube.

Sam returns with pills and a glass of water and Cas swallows two before Jess continues. She cuts into the vein on Cas’ arm, another precise incision and she wedges the next tube into Cas and this time the grip on his wrist is almost bone crushing. The tube is already connected to the machine and Jess just flips another switch and the hum turns into a rattling and Cas lets out a choked sound.

There’s no need to hold his arm in place anymore so Dean rips off his gloves and grabs Cas’ hand and squeezes, ignoring the sharp pain as Cas grinds on his bones, panting hard as the vacuum pushes the electrolyte through his body. Dean can hear the fluid flow into the bucket and the sole sound of it makes him sick and he has to press his face into the side of Cas’ uninjured leg as not to throw up. Cas’ other hand moves into his hair, caught between petting and pulling, his movements erratic and Dean brings his other hand up to gently caress Cas’ leg, to show him that it’s alright.

The machine beeps and almost startles Dean out of his skin. Jess shuffles over and does something that turns the rattling sound back into a hum and the sickening sound of the fluid burbling into the bucket stops. It’s not so much the sound that sets Dean off, it is the knowledge that it’s so much like blood, essentially Cas’ life that gets drained out of his body.

Cas has relaxed and Dean looks up to see him leaning back in the chair, face still pale but eyes closed as he levels his breathing. Dean offhandedly wonders how bots can even be pale, but he figures that the electrolyte has the same function in keeping a rosy color to Cas’ cheeks than human blood has. His skin is synthesized human skin after all.

Jess has unhooked the empty electrolyte bag and tosses it on the ground before she takes the next one. This time Dean is prepared for the bone crushing grip when Jess turns on the machine. The sickening splatter starts again and Dean turns away from the bucket, leaning his neck against Cas’ leg so that he can watch his face.

He doesn’t like the look of pain on Cas’ face, and he finds himself with the strange urge to kiss it away again. Cas’ lips are pink, something Dean noticed before and they look kissable, and that is really some messed up shit right there, because Dean never thought he would use that term, let alone while the other party is currently in deep pain. Still, the urge to kiss the pain away lingers, not so much fueled by thoughts of rough stubble on his jaw but by the wish to make it easier, in any form, for Cas.

But eventually the painkillers seem to kick in, Cas relaxes slightly, and by the time the fourth bag is hooked in, he looks almost calm. Jess started to explain the finer mechanics sometime during bag number three, but Dean is only half listening. It is late after all and he had a busy day, his mind drifts off as he watches the pained creases on Cas’ face disappear one after another.

Sam is slumped against the counter, eyes closed and seemingly asleep on his feet. The machine beeps again, the fourth and final time, and Jess gets up with an exhausted sigh. She turns it off and unhooks the blood bag and Dean is wide awake again because she has to pull out the tubes and that will be painful.

“I’m not sure if I got all the alcohol out, there’s bound to be some residue, but your body should be able to deal with that on its own.” Jess informs Cas before she removes the tape and presses a wet wad of tissue on the tube end in his arm and carefully pulls it out. Cas winces but doesn’t tighten his grip and Dean is grateful because he isn’t sure if he can stand anymore hand crushing.

Jess quickly bandages Cas’ arm before she repeats the procedure on his leg. She then pulls out her stethoscope again and checks Cas’ arm. “Everything seems to be fine.” She lets out a relieved sigh and starts cleaning up the mess. Dean chances a glance in the bucket before Jess removes it but now it’s just a bucket full of blood-like liquid, no longer harmful to Cas. Although he imagines a bit of a green hue to it, but maybe that’s just him.

Cas hasn’t moved and Sam is still half-asleep but Dean knows they can’t stay here forever so he gets up and unwinds his fingers from Cas’. Maybe he imagines it, but Cas seems reluctant to let him go.

“The medication was pretty strong.”Jess explains while Dean has to help a wobbly Cas into his pants, he’s too exhausted to feel much but he can’t deny the flutter of heat that surges through his body when he has to bend down to help Cas’ feet into a pant leg and his face gets dangerously close to a certain area. This has something undeniable intimate about it and when there’s a soft touch to his hair he only halfheartedly believes that he imagined that.

“He will be out of it for a few hours I suppose, but tomorrow he should be fine again. The healing shouldn’t take too long either. Anyway, I’ll drop by tomorrow to check on him and show you how to change the bandage I’ll give you a gel that assists the healing process.”

Jess gives him the supplies, the gel, the package of painkillers (maximum two per day), additional bandages and tape and then she is gently shaking Sam awake. She looks tired, dark circles under her eyes and all the way to the front door she keeps fidgeting.

Dean realizes why after she has locked the door. “I’m sorry about that Castiel.” She makes a hand gesture, indicating this body as she steps closer into his field of vision. Cas leans heavily on Dean’s shoulder, whatever she gave him must have been at least rhino proved. “I should have thought about alcohol poisoning earlier, I really am sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Cas rasps, a weak smile on his lips. “It’s not your fault, I should have looked out for myself more. But I was just so happy to be accepted in your midst so really Jessica, I should thank you for including me.”

The smile on Jess’ lips is unsure, almost disbelieving and Dean is sure he looks similar. He can’t believe that he really just heard that. And it is painful, in a whole new way, that Cas might have been thinking that he was excluded, that he didn’tbelong to them and it fills Dean with anger that he might ever had reason to believe just that. He wants to pull Cas into a hug, press him close until every doubt that he’s not one of them disappears but he doesn’t move because even now he can’t help but think, that it would be presumptuous.

But Jess has already overcome her surprise and her smile turns big and genuine and she rubs her hand over Cas’ shoulder once, a comforting easy gesture that Dean suddenly envies her for. “Of course, Cas. Anytime.”

It’s in the car when Cas quietly muses: “This is what you meant when you said personal touches are okay under certain circumstances, isn’t it?”

And Dean isn’t sure if he meant Jess’ shoulder rub or how they almost cuddled.

Either way, the answer is the same.

“Yes.”


	12. Chapter 12

Cas is still exhausted when they reach Bobby’s house, both from the ordeal and the pain medication. Dean has to help him get out of the car and up into the house but before he can dump him on the couch he is stopped by Cas’ hand on his arms.

“Dean, please… I need to…” Cas seems to have a hard time focusing on anything, his speech is slightly slurred and he breaks off every few words. With all the ‘blood’ he has seen today Dean would have almost sworn he was human.

“I got you Cas. What do you need?”

The house is dark and silent, Bobby must have been asleep already and Dean tries to be as quiet as possible but it’s not that easy when he has to pull the weight of another in addition.

“I need-“ Cas cuts off again and Dean has to crane his head to actually see that he’s blushing. It starts do dawn on Dean what it is that Cas needs.

Cas looks down, wobbling slightly on his feet as he tries to steady himself. “Bathroom.” He says quietly, eyes glued to the floor and it is definitely too late for all this or else Dean wouldn’t think that this is one of the most adorable things he’s ever seen. No one should be allowed to look this adorable when they’re embarrassed.

“Okay, I’ll take you.” Dean shifts Cas into a more comfortable position before he supports him all the way over to the bathroom. Cas slumps down on the toilet lid and Dean is left with a peculiar situation. It looks like Cas could need some help, he’s shaking, even while sitting and Dean highly doubts that he has the experience to perform without any accident. As a bot he isn’t required to use the toilet very often and Dean really can’t see the point in making them do it at all, it’s one of the things he’d gladly give up.

But he supposes it’s a necessity.

“Do you need… uhm… help?” It’s awkward, really awkward and it doesn’t really help that he actually _wants_ to see Cas naked, but not like this. He’s grown up in close quarters with Sam, he had enough of limited privacy, he really doesn’t want to see another guy doing his business. That even outweighs the pro of seeing Cas’ penis.

It’s really far too late for this shit. He’s starting having really weird thoughts.

But thankfully Cas declines and Dean only hesitates so much before he leaves him to his own devices. And since it’s awkward and kind of creepy to wait outside while another man takes a piss he walks over into the living room. Cas looked exhausted and he isn’t sure if bots can sleep like humans do, but he definitely needs rest, more than his usual motionless sitting. He has the blankets out before he even realizes what he’s doing but there’s no reason to stop now, so he takes out the pillows too and fluffs them, just like he would have for Sammy, had he been sick.

The bathroom door opens and Cas staggers out, gripping on to the doorframe. Dean has pulled off the trench coat when they entered, no need to wear that the whole time, but his jacket hangs off one shoulder and his hair looks even messier than ever, and he really shouldn’t think that it is attractive, but then he doesn’t because Cas is still pale and he’s high on pain meds, he’s a lot of things right now, and material for Dean’s private spank bank is on the bottom of that list.

Dean hurries over before Cas can collapse, and really, what was in those pills? He helps him over to the couch and gently lays him down, pulling the blanket up to Cas’ chin and tucking him in. He’s worried about the paleness, the electrolyte should circulate normally again and there’s no reason for him to still be so pale and maybe that’s just a side effect of the painkillers.

“Do you need anything?” He asks, unsure how to proceed now. Cas doesn’t need sleep, he could put his system in standby but Jess said that he should stay at full function so that his body has the needed capacities to cleanse out the rest of the alcohol and repair the damage done.

“I’m fine Dean.” Cas assures and tries a smile but it’s tired and worn out, and that look really doesn’t fit with Cas but there is nothing Dean can do.

“Okay, I’ll put the pills on the coffee table, if the pain comes back you can take one, but just one, we don’t want you to be woozy all the time. I’ll check on you tomorrow, until then don’t move too much.” Dean puts the remote next to the package of painkillers, in easy reach for Cas and then it’s awkward again, because Cas stares at him and Dean has the sudden urge to pull away the blankets and push Cas down into the cushions.

It worries him, but only because he shouldn’t think like that about someone who’s sick and needs rest, it doesn’t worry him however, that he has these thoughts about Cas. No, with that he has come to terms quite a while ago.

“Good night Dean.”  Cas is still staring but Dean forces himself to look away. He could stand there for hours and be lost in that gaze, but he’s tired and his body demands a rest.

“Night Cas.” It doesn’t matter that Cas doesn’t sleep. All that matters is that his eyes stay on Dean the whole way to the door of the living room.

* * *

 

Morning comes and the first thing Dean does is go downstairs and check on Cas. Sam is still over at Jess’ and Bobby sits in the kitchen with (surprise) Jody and Dean rather not be in there any time soon. It’s not that Bobby doesn’t deserve it but Dean doesn’t want to see his father figure passing out smooches.

Especially not this early in the morning.

He has only slept a few hours, but Dean has learned early in his life to live on a minimum of four hours sleep. He had to stay up late too often for him to count, just to wait for his father’s call and drag him out of whatever bar he deemed to visit, and between that and the order to ‘keep an eye on Sammy’ there was just not enough time for him to sleep.

He will never forget that one time when he dared to leave the motel room and go play a few games in the near arcade and Sam almost got killed by a sleazy thug who thought he could ease them off their money. (He also remembers the bruises he got from that and those were not from the thug.)

But that doesn’t mean he’s in the mood for any form of PDA, even if said PDA is restricted to the kitchen and therefore not exactly public.

Cas is up (no surprise) and sitting in the midst of a nest of blankets. There’s an empty glass on the table and Dean assumes he refreshed his medication. He lifts his head as soon as Dean enters and he smiles the moment he recognizes him. And since Cas is no longer pale but looks healthy again, Dean doesn’t feel guilty for the butterflies that start a party in his stomach.

“How you feeling?” Dean asks and flops down next to him. He’s careful not to get too close though, Cas has an unpredictable effect on him and he doesn’t want to scare him off by acting too rash.

Huh.

That almost sounds as if he’s planning to actually make a move on him. Like at all.

So what if he is?

It’s not that Cas has shown any signs of obvious discomfort whenever Dean came close, and it’s definitely not that Cas hasn’t taken a bit of initiative himself.

But just because Cas didn’t show discomfort so far, doesn’t mean he won’t show it when he realizes that Dean’s intentions are more than just friendly.

Dean is an easy flirt, but only when he’s aiming for nothing more than a one night stand. They never look too deep if it’s just an easy fuck and he’s pretty confident in his bed skills. All that crumbles though, as soon as there’s the chance of something serious. He was serious with Cassie, and she showed him pretty clearly how little he was worth in her eyes.

He won’t be able to handle that same disappointment again, not when it comes from Cas. But still, it doesn’t feel right to give up like that. It feels too good to be close to Cas and maybe he can just do that, stay close but not too close so that he can jump at any second. As long as he doesn’t admit it to Cas, he can pretend that this is nothing, that he can leave any time and that he is not emotionally attached to him at all.

Dean Winchester has always been good at pretending after all.

“Much better, thank you.” Cas smiles and it shouldn’t be this hard to keep his hands to himself, but it is, because all Dean wants to do is grab Cas’ arms and pull him into a deep kiss. He wants to feel Cas’ stubble rub against his jaw, he wants to drag his teeth over Cas’ lip, pull at it with his teeth and chase his tongue until he’s breathless and Cas’ skin is flushed underneath his touch. He wants to know if Cas’ breathing will be affected, he wants to know if Cas can also pant with pleasure and not only with pain.

But he does none of that, he just sits there, next to Cas, and watches the images flitting over the muted television, some kind of documentary it seems. And even though he isn’t touching, even though he isn’t pressing Cas down with the weight of his body, even though his cock stirs in his pants from all the images and even though he won’t act on it, he’s content.

Because Cas is here with, because Bobby is in the kitchen with Jody and because Sam is probably eating breakfast with Jess right now. Because everything is fine right now.

* * *

 

Cas’ wounds heal rather quickly, Dean still doesn’t like to look at the cuts, surrounded by blue and purple bruises, crusted over with dried electrolyte (really, that one’s just creepy), but he changes the bandages and applies the gel nevertheless. The wounds close and the bruises fade and thanks to the gel there will only be faint white lines left to mark the spots of the incision, almost invisible against the pale hue of Cas’ skin.

At this point Dean is absolutely sure that no one will ever convince him that Cas isn’t human. Maybe a bit different, maybe a bit more in some places and a bit less in others, but still human.

It’s a lazy afternoon, Bobby has sent him home because he doesn’t expect any more clients and it’s too hot to get much work done anyway. Cas is in his usually spot on the couch, but he has Sam’s laptop propped on his knees and is vigorously typing away. He has returned to helping at the garage but he’s lacking the finer understanding of engine mechanics and he tends to drop the tiny screwdrivers they have to use to screw tiny screws (don’t even get Dean started) and eventually it was mutually agreed upon that Cas should look for a job better suited to him.

So now Cas is either leafing through the newspaper or looking online for jobs, but since he doesn’t have any real working experience and no programmed education, he can’t just apply for every job. And with the damage to his memory core and emotional program, he’s additionally compromised, seeing that he can’t do a job where he would be required to do more than casual interaction. But there are a few out there who might fit his MO, although Dean isn’t really sure what Cas’ MO actually is.

Dean gets himself a beer from the fridge, noting to himself that a supply run is necessary soon and drops down into Bobby’s favorite armchair. He props his legs on the coffee table and leans back with a sigh. He’s just showered and he feels refreshed, even more so when he takes the first sip of beer. They also decided to not let Cas anywhere near alcohol again, beer so far was okay, but Dean really doesn’t want him to go through anything like the electrolyte exchange again. His hand hurt for days afterwards. (He’s totally not thinking of the many times he felt his stomach clench whenever Cas was wincing in pain from his wounds).

“Find anything?”

Cas looks up and smiles at him and Dean wonders if he’ll ever get over the way how Cas’ entire face lights up when he smiles. He doesn’t think he will though, not when it only happens when Cas smiles at him.

“Yes, I think so. I tried to keep the search parameters as wide as possible, but still I’ve come up with only three possible hits.” 

“Okay, that’s a start. What’ve you got?”

“A Lady on the other side of town is looking for a cat sitter, but I have the slight suspicion that she’s looking for a human child and just forgot to add in the specifics.” There’s a certain note of sadness and disappointment in his voice and Dean decides against telling Cas that he has a cat hair allergy and wouldn’t take too kindly to Cas’ returning with cat hair all over his clothes. But still he wants to prompt Cas to try it regardless, because one never knows, she might accept him, and he has the strong wish to make Cas happy.

“A local fast food joint looks for a sales apprentice and a florist searching for an assistant.” Cas frowns at the screen and clicks a few times, before he gets the information he wants. “I am not too well versed in current monetary customs, but I assume that the pay in both cases can be considered okay.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, not entirely sure what Cas just said but after a short moment of consideration he leans over and turns the laptops screen in his direction. Cas’ leg twitches as Dean’s hand brushes his knee accidentally and Dean has to keep his eyes from flicking up to his face. But somehow he knows that Cas is staring again and he feels goose bumps rise along his neck. He’s close, and there’s only the laptop between his hands and Cas’ thighs.

He focuses his attention on the screen and he clicks through the various sites Cas has open until he finds the two respective job offers. Cas was right, the pay is okay, in the widest sense of the word, but in this economy there’s really not much one can expect. He skims over the descriptions and then, after short contemplation, clicks away the fast food joint. They pay better, but the hours are mad and he really doesn’t want Cas to smell like burned fat when he comes home. Besides, the florist is closer and Sam can drop him off when he drives to the university. And there’s that tiny smile that played around Cas’ lips when he mentioned the florist, he seems to prefer that anyway.

“Take this one.” He encourages and sits back up again. “Normally you should apply to every job you can find, to increase your chances you know, but I think it’s more important that you like it. And if you don’t get it, we’ll just wait until something else pops up. I mean, they’ re sounding kind of awesome, they have their own flower garden and even make their own honey.”

“But I am supposed to contribute my share to the household.” Cas looks at him with wide eyes and there’s worry written clearly over his face. As if he expects Dean to kick him out if he doesn’t pay his fill.

“Don’t worry about that. You’re not really high on the expenses, so this money is mainly for you. So that you can get things you like, you know like the pinwheel.” The pinwheel that now stands lonely guard in the empty flowerbed next to Bobby’s front porch. Dean has resolutely kept it away from his baby.

Cas looks at him surprised but then a tentative smile forms on his lips. “Thank you Dean.”

“Well, you’ll have to contribute a small amount to the household fund but the rest is entirely for you. You should find things you like, something that makes you happy and that occupies you. You’re your own person and not just a pretty accessory.” Cas still smiles and Dean allows himself to sit next to Cas, all under the disguise of helping him sort through the application formalities. He’s going to ignore that he just called Cas pretty to his face. And if Cas’ leg presses against his, that’s just a coincidence and he certainly doesn’t press back.

Sam comes back home by the time they have finished Cas’ CV and written a short essay about why Cas is perfect for the job and right for the moment when they finally press send on that e-mail from Cas’ newly set up mail-account. Cas is pretty excited, he downright hums on his spot and he refreshes his newly made mail account every five seconds to see if he’s gotten an answer.

“It will take a while, they’ll have to get it first and then read it and decide if you’re fitting and so on.” Dean tries to calm him but Cas just keeps hitting F5 and who’s he to put a lid on such adorableness.

“What will take a while?” Sam asks, fresh beer in hand and plops down in the abandoned armchair, after almost stumbling over an overzealous Zeppelin who’s whirring around on the floor.

“Cas’ job application.” Dean is almost surprised about the amount of pride in his voice. “He’s getting to be a florist.” He says with a grin, and he doesn’t even bother to react to Sam’s confused bitchface, because prior to this moment he would have considered working as a florist as girly, but honestly it’s Cas, and wouldn’t it be awesome if he talked about flower arrangements in that voice? Basically Cas could talk about anything and it would still sound awesome.

“Good luck with that.” Sam nods in Cas’ direction but otherwise is fixed on his beer.

“What’s up with you?” But then he remembers, and he wanted to talk to Sam about that for quite a while now. “Listen, I’ve been thinking, couldn’t you get an employee from Angelbot to supervise your research? I’ve heard that they work in close relations with your university and they should be interested in your work.” It’s not much, but Dean has done his best and he’s kind of proud of the result.

Sam ‘hm’s in response and swishes his beer around, seemingly in deep thought. Dean knew his idea was mediocre at best, but he still expected a bit more excitement.

“That is quite a good idea.” Cas says and Dean looks over in surprise, but Cas is in equally deep thoughts than Sam. Still the compliment is nice, even when it comes from an unexpected direction.

“Actually it is.” Sam muses after a while and then leans over to grab his laptop. “They have a science department or something, I remember seeing some adds hanging out at campus, they’re always looking for new engineers and stuff.” He quickly types away on the keyboard, face scrunched as he chews on his tongue. “I’d have to get someone at my university to contact them, because they would want talk with someone in charge but I suppose Sarah can do that.”

“Sarah?” Dean asks with a quirked eyebrow.

“Professor Blake.” Sam explains and Dean’s eyebrows shoot up even higher.

“You’re turning into a womanizer at this rate.”

Sam just rolls his eyes and keeps typing.

“You should ask for the head of development and research.” Cas suddenly says, and both brothers look at him. “He could be interested in your work field. He’s a competent man.”

“Why’d you have contact with the head of development and research?” Dean asks incredulous.

“He was personally supervising my unit’s training and education, he was actually very nice. We used to play chess after my day’s program was finished, I never managed to beat him.”

“You can play chess?”

“Of course. I am able to play almost every game in human history, though some of my data is corrupted currently. We should play twister some time.”

Yes, oh god yes, Dean would like that very much. Every excuse to get his hands on Cas’ body.

Okay maybe not.

“Okay, I just wrote a mail to Sarah. What’s the guy’s name?” Sam looks over to Cas who seems a bit lost in thought. “Cas?” Sam prompts and actually startles Cas.

“Yes, right. Chuck Shurley.”

“Cas, you alright?”

“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Dunno. You seem out of it.”

“I can assure you, everything is in order.” Cas smiles but somehow it seems strained to Dean. He doesn’t fail to notice that Cas’ eyes occasionally lose all focus and he just stares at nothing for a few seconds before he snaps back into it. He’s a bit worried but as long as Cas says it’s fine it probably is.

“What happened to Dick anyway?” Dean asks, contemplating to get another beer, but if he’s counted correctly Sam has taken the last one so there’s no point in getting up.

Sam finishes typing something on his laptop before he looks up to answer Dean’s question. “He got fired a week ago. He was pretty sneaky but we managed to find evidence on his embezzlement, turns out he had a few others in with him too.”

“So it’s about due time that we find a replacement.”

Sam shrugs and shuts down the laptop. “They said they’d find some niche for me, but I most likely would have to change my focus. But I’m allowed to bring Cas, although we decided to only use him as a test drive. The data I’d gain from you would be biased, we know each other and stuff.” Sam explains with an apologetic shrug.

Dean can’t say he likes how Sam talks about Cas, like he’s a machine that needs testing but he understands that from Sam’s elated science geek point of view that probably is the case. And now he’s just mean.

“Anyway, what’s for dinner?” Sam empties his beer and puts it next to Dean’s empty bottle on the side table.

“I don’t know, you’d have to ask the two love birds in the kitchen.”

“I think I smell chicken with a citrus sauce, but I can’t determine the side dish.” Cas informs and Dean’s chin is certainly not the only one that hit the ground.

“You can smell that from here?” Dean asks incredulously.

“Well the correct terminology would be that I receive the olfactory signal, but I am supposed to use human words, so yes I can smell that.”

“Awesome.”

As if on cue, Bobby walks in on them, carrying a plate and a fresh six pack of beer, followed by Jody who carries another plate and enough silverware for all of them. “Food is in the kitchen.” Jody says and sits down on the smaller side couch that gets rarely used because of its angle to the television. “Castiel I made you an extra small portion.”

Cas’ face lights up and he smiles at Jody as he gets up. “Thank you Jody.”

Bobby throws one glance at Sam and he hastily gets out of the armchair, following his brother and Cas into the kitchen. The food smells delicious and looks even more so. They can all cook with varying quality, but they rarely bother with the effort and live mostly from takeout and unhealthy fast food. Except for Sam, but neither Dean nor Bobby have any interest in sharing in his diet.

“You should come and cook more often.” Dean says after he has taken his first bite of the surprisingly tender chicken. “This is awesome.”

“It’s an old family recipe.” Jody explains and shoots Bobby a glance.

“He’s right, it’s delicious.” Bobby agrees, and Dean swears he sees his ears blush slightly. Jody’s smile widens and she really looks happy, and Dean can’t help but feel glad that his family finally seems all in order. The only one that’s missing is Jess.

He allows himself to relax, and just enjoy the friendly atmosphere, the coveted flirting between Bobby and Jody, Sam’s small smile as he watches them and Cas’ steady presence next to him. Maybe it’s because of that, that he allows himself to lean just slightly against Cas’ side, smiling to himself when Cas shifts to make it more comfortable.

Everything is great with the world for Dean Winchester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There won't be an update next week, since I'm on vacation in Sweden and it would be kind of rude to be hogging the computer when I'm there with my friends. But we will be back on schedule the Saturday after that. Until then, I would be happy to hear from you, in any form ;) Have a nice day.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I'm back my dears. Sweden was great and I can recommend a visit to everyone. But now on witht he chapter, have fun!

If there is one thing Dean Winchester is sure of, it is that Ernie and Bert are gay, and to a lesser extent, that nothing good ever happens to him without something bad following closely behind. It’s just a basic rule that Dean has established, be happy as long as you can, because shit is going to hit the fan inevitably. And since he’s feeling quite content right now, it surely won’t take long before his life takes a downwards spiral again.

It would be frustrating but Dean has long come to terms with it. He knows it’s just the universe’s way to show him that he doesn’t deserve it, and the universe is definitely right with that. There’s a reason why good things don’t happen to Dean Winchester, he has done too many bad things in his time. It’s just cosmic karma or some shit, if he believed in that.

But for now everything seems fine, so Dean is not going to complain or go look for trouble, maybe he’s even let off the hook this time. He patched up Cas, that has to tip the scale in his favor in some way. Or maybe he is just delusional, and the next tragedy just waits around the corner.

Sam would laugh at him and tell him about self-fulfilling prophecies, and maybe he’s even right with that but Dean just can’t believe that he doesn’t deserve what he gets. There’s too much blood on his hands. And even if he could wash that off, there’s still the ever-present disappointment in his father’s eyes, and he can’t get that image out of his head, no matter how often he drowns it in alcohol.

Usually this would be the point in time when Dean would sneak out to some secluded place on Bobby’s big scrap yard and empty at least one bottle of Jack in an attempt to drown his demons, and he would have to lie to say he doesn’t want to, but he has work to do and he can’t let Bobby down for this. It’s his personal work rule, no alcohol at work.  

It’s a Friday and the sun is hiding behind clouds but it’s still warm, and it’s only a few minutes before Dean’s lunch break. He sometimes envies Cas, he can feel temperature of course, but it doesn’t affect him. Dean on the other hand sweats through a shirt per workday, and as much appreciation that gets him sometimes from (mostly) female customers, he’d prefer it if it were more temperate.

Because, let’s be honest, catcalls are a compliment for no one, so where are the perks to a sweaty body?

Okay, to be ultra honest, there is one perk, and Dean has started to quite exploit that one. And that is the look on Cas’ face whenever he sees Dean in his sweaty shirt and one time Dean even went as far as to remove his shirt when he entered the house. And it really shouldn’t be this comfortable to be openly stared at by Cas, who can’t seem to tear his eyes from Dean’s body. Not that Dean can blame him, he knows that he’s quite good looking and he was never shy to use that to his advantage. But when Cas is looking at him like that he gets this tingling feeling in his belly, it’s like Cas is physically caressing him with his gaze. He might just get a tiny little bit off on that.

Dean finishes the old Audi he was working on and slams down the hood with a satisfied sense of accomplishment. It feels good to have a good old fashioned engine under his hands, one that needs oil and gas, one that makes a decent sound when started. It’s dirty work, dirtier than with all those shiny new electronic engines that barely even have dust on them, but he prefers it that way. The work is much more down to earth and he always feels more accomplished than if he just fixes some tiny screws (Stupid tiny screws).

He gets into the car and drives it to the front, where the owner can later collect it and takes the key inside to the desk where Charlie is working. She has decorated the whole place with action figures and her wallpaper is some montage of Harry Potter and Star Wars with laser shooting wands and secretly Dean thinks it’s awesome.

“I’ve finished that Audi.” Dean drops the keys on her desks and she gives him a sheet of paper in exchange. He hates this part of his job, but he needs to fill out the form, for some legal reasons he doesn’t really care about. Everything’s so damn legal these days.

“My break is in ten.” Charlie informs him and points towards her bag where she usually stores her packed lunch. “Wanna grab a bite?”

“Sure, I’ll just finish this up.” Dean waves the sheet and grabs a pen from the table at the wall. Thank goodness it requires mostly marking boxes with x’es and he doesn’t have to write down a lot. He throws the pencil down once he’s finished and hands the sheet to Charlie who quickly types something into her computer before she sets it on standby. Bobby doesn’t require them to clock out, most employees have worked here for years and Bobby only takes people who genuinely like their jobs. Charlie is rather new but she instantly bonded with Dean and that makes her at least somewhat trustworthy in Bobby’s book.

Dean has some Sam-made sandwiches and he goes to fetch them from his bag while Charlie collects her own food. They usually go and find some abandoned car and picnic on the hood and have lengthy discussions about the battle tactics in Lord of the Rings and stuff like that. Charlie is kind of awesome and Dean sometimes jokes that she is like the little sister he never wanted.

They leave the building and move to walk around it when a voice calls from behind. “Dean.”

Cas looks more misplaced than ever in his tan trench coat on a warm late summer day in the middle of a whole scrap yard of old cars, even more so since he clutches Sam’s old laptop (the one he’s lent to Cas, since he doesn’t need it anymore) in his hands. He’s unmistakably excited about something and Dean exchanges a glance with Charlie who just shrugs.

“Hey Cas, what’s up?”

“Dean, I got a reply.”

“Okay?”

“From the flower shop.” He holds the laptop out for Dean to take it but Dean just looks at him confused.

“What did they say?” He asks instead.

“I haven’t opened it yet. I want to open it with you.” And that leaves Dean speechless for a moment, because he honestly has no idea how he’s supposed to react to that.

Charlie laughs and pats him on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you two to it. I’ll see you later.” She grins and winks at Dean before she disappears around the building.

“Dean please?” Cas asks when Dean still hasn’t reacted. It’s probably the heat but his brain works kind of slow all of a sudden. Cas wants him to look at the reply with him, this is important to Cas, it is important to Cas that Dean looks at it with him.

No really, how is he supposed to stay calm after that?

“Let’s go inside.” He says after clearing his throat, still ignoring the offered laptop as he walks back in.

They settle in the living room, laptop placed on the side table and after Cas doesn’t make any attempt to move Dean leans over and pulls the laptop over. The mailing program is already open and there it is, the unopened e-mail from the owner of the flower shop.

“Ready?” Dean asks and Cas scoots closer to get a better look and maybe even to get into the comfort of Dean’s proximity.

“Yes.”

Dean opens the mail and both inch closer to read the contents.

 **From** : Joshua@GardenEden.com

 **To** : Castiel@gmail.com

 **About** : Re: Application

Dear Mr. Castiel,

thank you very much for your interest and your effort. I would appreciate if you would come for an interview into my shop next week. We can arrange the date according to your schedule.  

In the attachment you’ll find further details. I’ll be looking forward to meeting you in person.

Sincerely yours,

Joshua.

“You did it Cas.” Dean says after he has finished reading. “The interview is the next step.” He clicks on the enclosed file and reads through the instructions. “Sounds easy enough.” Cas is still silent next to him and he wonders if maybe, he went into shock.

Dean downloads both the e-mail and the attached file before he clicks on the reply button to Joshua’s mail. “Cas, you still with me? We still need to reply?”

Cas blinks a few times, as if waking from a deep trance, his body has slightly sagged against Dean and he rights himself up again. “Yes, of course, apologies.”

“What’s up with you lately? That’s not the first time you lost focus like that.”

“I don’t… no, I’m fine. It’s nothing.” Dean has a hard time believing that but he lets it slide anyway. If Cas doesn’t want to talk, he doesn’t want to talk and Dean is the last person to force someone into a conversation they don’t want to have.

“Okay, when do you want to have that interview? I can ask Bobby to give me off a few hours and drive you over if you’d like the moral support.”

“That would be appreciated, thank you.”

“So how about Wednesday? I’m off early anyway so it wouldn’t be a big deal.”

Cas nods but there’s a look of trepidation on his face. “What am I supposed to answer?” Maybe it’s subconsciously, but he leans closer to Dean and it’s probably wrong in more than one way, but Dean brushes his leg against Cas’ anyway, and he doesn’t pull away after that. Cas stiffens slightly but then he relaxes and Dean just throws every doubt he has, every nagging worry over board, because this feels good and he doesn’t want to miss that feeling ever again.

“Have you ever used a keyboard?” Dean asks and somehow, even without his doing, his hand lands on Cas’ thigh and it feels instantly at home there. Cas is surprisingly warm, even through his pants and since he’s done that first step, it doesn’t take much to do the next and his thumb starts stroking over Cas’ thigh.

“Yes I have. But my data on job applications is corrupted. I am not too sure about the formalities and I’d appreciate your help.” Cas’ hand drops down to where Dean rests on his thigh and every lingering doubt he might have had vanishes as Cas squeezes his hand softly.

“Of course.” Dean smiles and gestures for Cas to take up the laptop. “It’s really not that hard, just be polite and you should be fine.” It doesn’t take long to type the reply, and Cas is visibly proud of himself when he finally hits send. And Dean just wonders how deep the damage really reaches if he forgot how to do these small things, how much it must mean to him that he’s able to do them now. And they’re still so far away from the solution of this problem.

Charlie comes in a little while later to collect Dean, reprimanding him for forgetting to eat his lunch and Dean only half heartedly attempts to hide his close contact with Cas, because if anyone understands than its Charlie.

And he thinks, that maybe this time, the shoe won’t drop.

* * *

 

The rest of the day passes rather uneventful, until it is time for Dean to get to the Roadhouse. He has a few hours between work at the garage and work behind the bar and he spends them with Cas in front of the television. Charlie has thankfully refrained from making any stupid comment on how they were nearly cuddling and so Dean has no more qualms about getting closer to Cas than necessary.

They still haven’t talked, but Dean feels too good right now to bother with trying to label whatever it is they have. He’s happy, happier than he has been in a long time and he doesn’t want to destroy that by bringing unnecessary feelings into the equation. But even he realizes that he is delusional, that this already is about emotions and that he’s simply too chicken to admit that.

But as long as Cas doesn’t see the need to address it, Dean decides, he doesn’t have to either.

It is harder than it should be to leave Cas, even if it’s just for a few hours. It’s almost worrying how fast he’s grown used to the closeness and how reluctant he is to lose it, even if just for a short amount of time. He’s grown addicted to Cas, his presence and his touch and he finds himself repeatedly thinking about the other things he could do to him. But he’s still hesitant, he can only guess from Cas’ reaction if what he does is alright, and he’s afraid to overstep some boundary and lose Cas for good.

And if Cas’ abandoned puppy look is anything to go by he is as unwilling to let him leave as Dean is to go. He should be worried about this growing attachment but he can’t find the will to care.

The Roadhouse is already packed halfway with people when Dean finally arrives. He had changed into his work clothes at home so he goes quickly over to the bar where Ellen is busy serving drinks. Ash is nowhere to be seen and Jo hops around between the tables serving out food and snacks.

“You’re late.” Ellen admonishes but she has a fond smile on her lips as she puts a dainty martini glass on the counter, in front of a man Dean has never seen before in the bar. Come to think if, he has never before seen a martini served before in this bar either. He didn’t even know they had these kinds of glasses.

“Sorry, I got delayed.”

“Winchester keep your hands clean.”

“What do you think of me?” Dean asks in mock exasperation as he starts to fill up his first beer.

“Come on, I know the kind of things that get you delayed.” She winks at him. “Jo told me about your new boy toy.”

Dean actually laughs at that and shakes his head.

“Jo said that?”

“Well in not so many words. But you’re not denying it.” Ellen raises an eyebrow and Dean is suddenly very busy with filling his beer glasses.

“Well he is definitely not my boy toy, but…” Dean trails off because even he’s not certain just what he is. “He is potential I suppose?” He finally says and Ellen gives him one of those smiles Dean imagines mothers would give their children, smiles that say that they understand and that they are proud, no matter of what their child chooses. It makes him feel warm inside that he has this kind of family, it’s like Bobby likes to say, ‘family don’t end with blood’.

And it’s almost enough to make him forget how much it hurts that he can’t imagine his mother with that smile, because the memory of her is too long gone and all he has is that frozen camera smile.

Ellen leaves the bar after she has dealt out the drinks on her list and goes to help Jo with serving and mingling with the customers. Dean busies himself with work but even though the bar is pretty full tonight, he doesn’t miss the looks the guy with the martini keeps giving him. And he can’t shake the feeling that he knows him from somewhere.

But he doesn’t have time to dwell on it, because soon he’s busy with taking up orders and passing out drinks and peanuts and all the other stuff that pops up. Jo comes by occasionally and chats with him when she’s got the time and Dean feels himself relaxing into the familiar routine.

It’s not the same as working on cars, he can’t let his thoughts wander as easily but it is kind of refreshing in a way. It keeps his thoughts occupied at least, so he doesn’t get the chance to panic about what his actions might imply for his relationship with Cas. Now that the other isn’t anywhere near he starts to have doubts again.

It’s too good to be true after all.

Jo comes and sits down on an empty barstool, groaning to herself.

“Rough night?” Dean asks as he starts cleaning up the used glasses. The crowd has thinned around the bar and so there is not much else to do.

“Don’t get me started. Someone barfed into the Lady’s room, and I’m pretty sure it was _not_ a Lady. I’m not the one who has to clean it up, thank goodness, but I still want to take a shower.” She shudders and Dean, feeling empathetic, puts a shot glass in front of her.

“Do you at least know who did it?”

“Not really, we have a few who claimed they saw the whole thing, but the witness reports contradict each other, so basically we got jack squat.”

She downs the shot and sighs her contentment as she puts the glass down. “Well, Mom would certainly rip them a new one.”

Dean takes the empty glass and adds it to the stack of dishes he still needs to clean, they have a small dishwasher, but it’s usually not enough to battle the sheer amount of dirty glasses and plates so Dean has to lay an extra hand on most of the time.

A clatter from the opposite corner of the bar draws their attention and while the two of them still try to figure out what caused it, the crowd clears away to make space for two drunken men who are circling each other, in what appears to be a classic bar brawl. Tables are pushed back and chairs have been promoted to weaponry. The crowd cheers and Dean suppresses a growl. It stops to be all that funny when you’re on the responsible side and have to break it up.

“Care to lend a hand?” He asks the martini-man from the bar, if he’s staring, he can at least make himself useful. Dean doesn’t really expect him to actually react, most people are pretty loud when it comes to the cheering but when it comes to stepping in, they’re suddenly all busy with other important things. But to his surprise the stranger nods and follows him to the brawling men.

Jo goes off to find Ash, in case they need reinforcements and Dean sees Ellen out of the corner of his eyes disappearing into the backroom, most likely fetching the shotgun. He hopes it won’t come to that.

“Okay people, that’s enough.” Dean announces and the crowd slowly starts to disperse. But the fight is still going and people are reluctant to leave the show.

“Knock it off you two, don’t you know that Ellen has a shoot first, ask questions later policy?” To no one’s surprise, he’s thoroughly ignored. It would have been too much to ask anyway.

He hates to step in between fights, he usually ends up hurt in some way and despite of how many fights he has gotten himself in, getting bruised up is rarely worth the pain. A chair breaks as one of the men smashes it on the other’s back and Dean has enough.

“Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He steps forward and yanks the remains of the broken chair out of the man’s hand, tossing them to the ground as he tries to grab him in some sort of headlock. But he dodges him and immediately tries to lung at him. The stranger from the bar, thankfully, doesn’t need any more prompting to go after the other and after some wrenching and a few bruised knuckles and  in Dean’s case, one bruised cheekbone, they have them subdued, not counting the injuries of the two men of course.

Ellen appears and after she cocks her shotgun it doesn’t take any more incentive for the two to leave with two emptied wallets to pay for the damage but consequently scared into silence. Thankfully incidents like these are rare, but Dean kind of understands why Ellen would hire him as a bouncer. It’s preferable over getting charged because she assaulted customers with a rifle.

Jo reappears and offers to clean up while Dean returns to the bar. “How about I invite you to a drink?” Dean asks his helper, it’s the least he can do after all. No one has dared to steal anything from the bar while he was gone, they were either too absorbed into the fight or too scared of Ellen’s wrath to attempt anything.

“Sure.” The stranger sits down on his previous stool. “How about a Cosmopolitan?”

Dean stops mid movement and turns around to look at him. “Uh…” He remembers reading some books on cocktails, back when Ellen first asked him to switch behind the bar, but since no one ever ordered something more sophisticated than Rum and Cola, he has forgotten most of it. “Sorry, I’m afraid I don’t know how to make one.”

“Alright, then I’ll take a Gin tonic. You can do that right?”

Dean snorts, “That’s just Gin and Tonic water, right?”

“You’re not a professional, are you?” He asks as Dean prepares the drink. Dean isn’t sure about the mixing ratio, but he figures that as long as he doesn’t overdo it with the Gin, he can’t do much wrong.

“No, I just work here as a form of side job.” Dean explains as he puts the glass in front of the stranger, and gets a bag of ice for his swollen cheek. “I’m Dean, by the way.”

“Tom, nice to meet you. So what is your main job?”

“I’m a car mechanic.”

“I figured you’d be more of a hands on guy.” Tom says and Dean is almost positive that he’s flirting. But then Tom continues and Dean is not so sure anymore. “You have some fighting experience, I could tell.”

It’s true, Dean knows only too well that it’s true. But he doesn’t like to think, much less talk, about that part of his past, even if it comes in handy during bar fights. He’s clearly out of practice though, judging by the colorful bruise on his face. “What’s it to you?” He asks defensively.

Tom grins and leans back slightly. “I knew it.”

There’s an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach and Dean tries to recall again where exactly he has seen that face before. He’s sure now that he knows the guy, but the name is too common and doesn’t really ring a bell. “You knew what?”

His cheek is hurting and he doesn’t like the way Tom is looking at him, there’s a sly expression in his eyes that sets off all kind of alarms in Dean’s head.

“You’re a fighter, just like me.” Tom takes sip of his drink, his posture relaxes but the uneasy feeling in Dean’s stomach doesn’t ease up.

“Why would you think that?” He knows when he says it, that it was a mistake, he should have directly denied the claim, because now Tom has a knowing look in his eyes.

But instead of pressing further, he just shrugs. “Just a hunch.”He empties his glass and nods once as way of greeting before he makes his way over to the door. Dean is more relieved than he probably should be, but he can’t help it, the guy just doesn’t feel right.

* * *

They close up shortly after, Ellen is in a bad mood and most customers know better than to overstay their welcome. Ash has disappeared again as soon as it became clear that the fighting was over and Ellen sends Jo to bed once the last guest is gone, leaving Dean and herself to do the cleanup. They work in comfortable silence, neither is a person of much words and they have formed a mutual understanding with each other.

“Okay I think that’s everything.” Ellen observes, giving the bar a thorough look over. “Thanks Dean.”

“No problem, Ellen. You know that.”

“You should come by for dinner some time. Bring your new friend.” She winks but Dean is too tired to react much. It’s not that he actually has a point to argue, she is right after all. Well at least some way or another.

“Sure Ellen.”

“Oh and tell Sam he can bring Jess.”

“And let me guess, Bobby can bring Jody so he won’t be as grumpy?”

“It’s a date then. I’ll call once I talked to Jo.” Ellen gives him one of those warm smiles Dean wishes he could still remember his mother giving him. He’s sure she did, but he can’t remember her face in any other state than that one frozen smile. “Take care of yourself Dean.” He returns the smile, feeling soft and warm, a rare feeling he usually connects with Sam and recently Cas. But Ellen is family too, and sometimes she is almost like a mother to him.

He’s still under the influence of that blissful feeling when he walks out to the parking lot. And as much as he hates to admit that, but what happens next wouldn’t have surprised him as much, if he weren’t distracted by happy thoughts.

And that, more than anything, shows how messed up he really is.

He hears the footsteps, and in any other situation they would have alarmed him, but he’s too wrapped up in thoughts about happy family dinners to register it as a threat, before it’s too late. A body barrels into him, throws him off balance and he tumbles to the ground, hitting his shoulder on the hard concrete. He tries to push himself up but the other is pressing him down with his weight and before he can even think of screaming to alert help a hand clamps down on his mouth.

Dean is not a weak man, not by any means, but the attacker has his limbs pinned down pretty effectively and without the proper leverage, he doesn’t stand a chance to throw them off. And this helplessness, combined with how he let himself be jumped in the first place (he can hear his father in his mind, lecturing him about how he just put shame on both his and his father’s name), makes Dean unreasonably angry.

He’s a letdown, he can’t even do what his father taught him, no wonder he was always so disappointed, but that doesn’t mean he will give in so easily. Dean keeps on struggling for a bit, to give the right impression, before he goes limp in the stranger’s arms, seemingly giving up. The other doesn’t move, but after a few endless moments he loosens his grip, shifting slightly and Dean uses that opportunity to twist and throw him off.

It’s not an elegant move, and he only manages to get his upper body free but he quickly remedies that by pushing himself into a crouching position. The other rolls around and looks up at him and Dean snarls as he recognizes the face. Not just from the bar, because now he suddenly can remember where he saw Tom before.

Alastair’s gang. He was one of the small fries, skidding at the sidelines, doing odd jobs, reconnaissance and basically doing everything the big guys were too high and mighty to bother with, which placed him far under Dean in their hierarchy.

“What the fuck?” Dean snaps, rising into a standing position but still wary as he eyes Tom for any suspicious movement. There is no reason why Tom should be here, he wasn’t explicitly looking for him, that is for sure, but if Tom found him, even though by accident, others might too, and Dean can’t allow that.

Tom smirks as he slowly raises his hands in some form of surrender that Dean doesn’t trust for one second. “I just wanted to prove something, turns out I was right.”

“What do you want?” Dean snaps, his patience running out quickly.

“The boss will be so pleased to hear this. You’re rusty, but I bet with a bit of practice you’ll be as good as ever.”

Dean feels the blood drain from his face and his fists clench at his sides. There’s no doubt who he could mean with ‘the boss’ and that doesn’t bode well with him at all.

“You were always one of the best, I could never understand why you would leave,” Tom continues and Dean feels the urge to punch him in the face to silence him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dean says, but he knows it’s pointless. His reactions give him away, and even if he had concealed it better, he’s sure that Tom wouldn’t be deterred. He’s too eager about the secret he’s uncovered; he won’t let it go so easily.

“Oh come on Dean. No hard feelings, eh? It wasn’t personal; I just wanted to see if you’d had it still in you.”

“I have no interest in coming back, I told Alastair as much.” It wasn’t easy to leave and it took him much convincing before Alastair let him go, and he will never forget his last words before Dean turned his back. ‘You will come back to me, I know you, you’ll always come back, that’s the only reason I’ll let you go.’

Tom’s expression falters, ever so slightly, it’s there and Dean feels a strange satisfaction that he’s cracked his blind confidence. His face hurts and his shoulder aches where it  hit the ground and all he wants to do is go home and curl up in Cas arms and-

No, not now.

“Fuck off.” Dean feels tired all of a sudden. This was not supposed to happen, his past should have stayed there, in the past and he’s too tired to deal with that now. “We’re done here. Never show your face anywhere near me again.” His words have stunned Tom, he just keeps staring as Dean turns away and walks over to his car.

And as much as he hopes that this was the conclusion, Dean knows with a gut-wrenching finality that this won’t be the end of it.

Because when has fate ever let him off the hook easily?


	14. Chapter 14

Dean knows he probably should have told Ellen what happened so that she could ban Tom from ever entering her establishment again, but then he would have to explain why the other attacked him in the first place. And he simply is too tired to think of a good explanation. All he wants to do is to go home, hide under his pillow and forget this ever happened.

It had always been there, at the back of his mind, the possibility of Alastair popping back into his life one way or another, but he had somehow fooled himself into thinking that it wouldn’t happen so soon, that Alastair would stand true to his word and wait until Dean returned to him of his own volition (Which he would never do). And in a way he had, judging by Tom’s words Alastair had nothing to do with this, but that doesn’t keep him from being angry at him.

Alastair had brought up the worst in him. And as much as he suppresses it, Dean knows that it was still there, the potential, the darkness, and he is afraid that it would drag him back in if he came to close. It had been a rush, the power, the dominance over his victims, the thrill of blood spilling under his hands, he had been addicted, even if only for a short while.

And he doesn’t even want to think about all the people he killed, not always in person, but it would be delusional to think that they all survived after he was through with them. So much blood on his hands; he sometimes still has nightmares about the blood he just can’t wash off, because it’s not on his body, it’s all on his soul. And it is still a miracle that he managed to get out in the first place, that he was able to pull back from the horrendous monster he had become. He can’t risk going back, Alastair had a way with words -smooth tongue and sweet promises- that’s what drew Dean in the first time.

Dean is still pissed when he pulls on to the parking space behind Bobby’s house. His day had started so well and he had felt so good just spending time with Cas, and now all of that is in danger because of some stupid coincidence. He slams the car door harder than necessary and he immediately feels bad for letting his anger out on his baby. She didn’t do anything wrong after all. It is all Dean’s fault.

It is sometime during the early morning hours, cleanup had taken longer than expected, and the sky is filled with countless stars, all blinking down on his insignificant form. For a moment Dean feels like screaming out all his frustration, but there is no one there to hear, just stars, impassive and eternal.

Sometimes Dean wishes he could believe in god, like Sammy does, wishes that he could trust in some higher power that watches over him. But he can’t, he has seen so much bad things in this world, he simply can’t believe that there is a god anymore. So there’s just an empty sky above him, no heaven, no god, no angels.

Still, he feels like screaming.

The house is dark and silent, and Dean does his best to be quiet when he enters. He’s bruised up pretty badly and he can’t handle Sam’s questions now or Bobby’s disapproving glare. He will have to face those things eventually but it doesn’t have to be now. He has however forgotten one thing.

“Dean.”

There are hasty footsteps and then hands on his arms as Cas pulls him into the faint moonlight that pours in through the windows. Zeppelin is idly blinking in the corner, not perturbed by the late disturbance.

“You’re hurt.” And there is a tone in Cas’ voice, urgent and worried and his grip is tight around his arms but all that is shadowed by the look in his eyes. It’s dark, therefore hard to see, but even in the dim light of the moon Dena can make out the sharp blue of Cas’ eyes. He has the strange and displaced urge to wrap his arms around Cas’ shoulders, to press his lips against Cas’ until the worry lines disappear, until his frown dissipates and his body quivers under his hands.

“What happened?” Cas is angry. Why is Cas angry? There is no reason for him to be angry, it’s just Dean who got hurt, nothing new, Sam can write a book of how often he had to patch his brother up.

Cas’ hands tremble as he guides Dean further into the living room and onto the couch, he flinches slightly when Cas pushes against his injured shoulder and even though it’s still dark he can see the way Cas clenches his hands into fists at his side, and the way his eyes darken as he takes note of the reaction. It’s so surreal. Dean is angry, because his past caught up with him, but Cas doesn’t know that and still, there he is, hands clenched and nearly livid.

“Nothing.” Dean says. And he wishes with every fiber of his being that it were true. He can handle the pain, it hurts like a bitch but it’s by far not the worst he’s ever had, no, he can handle the pain.

“You’re lying.” Cas says and there is not a shred of doubt in his voice. Since when has Dean become so easy to read? Or maybe it’s just Cas, Cas who stares at him at any possibility he’s given, Cas who stares at him as if he can see his soul, Cas who probably has seen deeper into his psyche than anyone before, and who is still here, despite everything.

Maybe he sees something that is hidden even from Dean.

Maybe there is nothing he can hide from Cas. (Maybe there is nothing he _wants_ to hide from Cas.)

It’s late and he is tired, but Cas’ hands are on him again, gently cupping his chin so that he looks up into his eyes and Dean just wants to drown in that endless blue.

“What happened Dean?” Cas’ voice grows more urgent and Dean realizes with a start that he now looks almost scared. Scared because Dean refuses to talk to him, scared because he doesn’t know what happened, scared because he cares-

He really wishes it were this easy.

And what if it is? There is no reason for Cas to act like this, he’s usual so rational, all logic and reason, so why would he act like this if not for _that_ reason. He really, really wishes it were this easy.

“Dean!”

Dean blinks. He hadn’t noticed that Cas has dropped to his knees, his hands grasping at Dean’s as he tries to get his attention. “Dean, please. Let me help you.”

It’s too much. Cas’ eyes are impossibly wide and there’s something close to panic in them and Dean’s words die on his tongue. He can’t lie to those eyes, he can’t keep saying it’s nothing, not when it so clearly is not. He’s still shaken, the anger long burned out, but he’s shivering uncontrollably, teeth clenching, and hasn’t even noticed it. No wonder Cas is beyond himself.

“I…” But his words fail him. He wants to, by the love of everything that is rock’n roll, he wants to, but his throat constricts the moment he opens his mouth. He just can’t forget the look on Cassie’s face, the disgust in her voice as she told him to leave and never come back again. Even now, after all these years he still can’t let go of her memory.

“I’m sorry Cas.” He can’t, he just can’t. He has swallowed this secret down for so long, it just feels impossible to dig it out now. And he knows, with startling certainty, that it would crush him if he ever saw that look of disgust on Cas’ face directed at him.

Cas hands are on his and suddenly he is up in Dean’ space. He doesn’t know how it happens, but suddenly he is in Cas’ arms, face pressed against his shoulders and Cas’ hands gently card through his hair. “I just can’t.” He whispers against the fabric of Cas’ coat and it smells so much like Cas, even though, by any means, Cas shouldn’t smell like anything. 

Something breaks, Dean can almost feel it physically, and then he is clutching the front of Cas’ jacket with his, burying his face in Cas’ chest as he tries hard to hold the tears back. His cheek is aching faintly, his shoulder is protesting but he doesn’t care, not now, when all he can do is to hold on and hope that Cas will never let go.

It’s weak and pathetic, his father would be ashamed (but that is nothing new), and Dean doesn’t care. He’s so sick of denying himself, he’s so sick of pretending, sick of acting like everything is alright, while deep down he feels so empty and hollow. And Cas is just _there_ , he doesn’t ask for anything, he doesn’t want anything from him, he just accepts him, even though he’s such a disappointment. 

He doesn’t know how long he stays there in Cas’ arms. At the beginning he is still shaking, clinging to Cas as the emotions surge through him. Cas never stops touching him, he winds his arm around Dean, pressing him close to his chest and his hand keeps rubbing the back of Dean’s neck. And eventually the shaking ceases, Dean relaxes and loosens his vise like grip on Cas’ jacket. But he doesn’t let go completely.

He has to pull away eventually though. His shoulder is throbbing and while he knows that the bruise on his cheek will heal just fine, he can’t be that sure with his shoulder. Cas hesitates before he lets him go but Dean moves away only a short distance. He keeps one hand in Cas’ jacket as he carefully pulls down the sleeve of his flannel shirt.

Cas tenses slightly but he relaxes again once he realizes that Dean just wants to get to the injury and he replaces his hand on the small of Dean’s back. Dean winces as he peels back the shirt, as a bit of the fabric got stuck to the wound.

It’s actually hard to get a good look at the wound, the angle is awkward and it is still dark in the room. But before Dean can get his hands on it, Cas’ are there and he carefully prods at the skin as he assesses the damage. He is gentle and Dean feels himself relax as Cas takes care of him. He’s exhausted, not only from the long night but also from the emotional stress, so he lets his head drop back against the backrest and closes his eyes as he lets Cas do his thing.

He must have drifted off (weird, with Cas prodding at his open wound), because next thing he realizes is the cool sensation of a wet cloth pressed against his shoulder as Cas dabs at his wound. It’s painful but he doesn’t want to alert Cas to it. He’s so careful and gentle, he doesn’t want to give him the expression he is anything but.

“It’s not very deep, just shallow abrasions, but we still should bandage it. I think the bone is fine, but you probably have a contusion.” Cas’ voice is low and rumbling and soothing to Dean’s exhaustion. He doesn’t know where he got them, but there is a roll of bandage on the coffee table, a tape roll next to it. Maybe some leftovers from Cas’ injury. But Cas doesn’t immediately go for them once he finishes the cleaning, instead he fidgets with the cloth and looks everywhere but Dean’s face.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asks, voice low and a bit hoarse from the almost crying and Cas visibly tenses. There’s a noticeable flush at the base of his neck, visible even in the darkness of the room.

“You need to take off your shirt.” Cas finally says, the red spreading to his face and even more prominent, his ears, still avoiding Dean’s eyes.

It is late and Dean is slow so he doesn’t immediately grasp the meaning of Cas’ words. “What?”

“I need to bandage the wound, your clothes are in the way.” If possible Cas blush only deepens and understanding dawns on Dean. At any other time he would have said something teasing, flirtatious even, probably accompanied by a saucy wink, but right now he’s too tired and grateful for the help. He just pushes himself up and pulls his flannel shirt off his shoulders. But to get his other shirt off he needs more space to get it over his head, and so far Cas isn’t moving an inch.

“Cas.” He whispers and somehow he doesn’t want Cas to move at all. He wouldn’t mind staying there, like this, close to each other, just losing himself in Cas’ presence. They’re so close and he can even feel the soft ghost of Cas’ breath on his skin and it leaves behind a heat that spreads through his body. All he wants is to pull Cas in and kiss him, feel those chapped lips (just like those of a real human) on his. But he forces himself to speak. “A little space?”

Cas doesn’t react immediately, he just stares at Dean before his words register and then he backs up, hastily and Dean feels the loss of his touch like a cold spot on his skin. He quickly pulls off the shirt and he doesn’t fail to notice the way Cas eyes widen as he trails them over his bare torso. Cas’ mouth is open slightly, and he looks like he is in trance as he slowly raises his hand towards the tattoo under Dean’s collar bone.

Dean holds his breath, frozen in place as he watches how Cas hesitates a few inches before contact, hoping to himself that he will go through with it and then Cas’ fingers are on his skin, barely a brush but it spikes heat through him nevertheless. It’s just a slight drag of fingers, following the circle of the pentagram, prodding against the flames, but Dean feels like electricity is surging through him and suddenly the urge to touch Cas back is overwhelming. Unbidden the images come back of Cas spread out, skin flushed and panting as Dean covers his body with kisses.

But then Cas seems to realize what he’s doing and he snaps his hand back, looking almost as startled as Dean. His face is red again and he watches Dean with wide eyes as if he fears Dean to lash out at him for overstepping a line. Dean tries a smile to reassure him, but it’s shaky and he wonders for a moment if he should just take Cas’ hand and place it back on his chest, but he hesitates for a moment too long and Cas has already gathered himself and reaches for the bandage.

He wraps Dean up quick and efficient, apologizing quietly that he didn’t find any salve to go with it but Dean doesn’t care either way. He’s too entranced by the closeness, the scent of Cas that is so impossible, yet so tangible, and despite all the trouble and the worries, he feels good for the first time since Tom attacked him on that parking lot.

It seems that Cas just has that effect on him.

He doesn’t really know how they ended up there, but a little while later they lie together on the couch, blanket pulled up to their chins and Dean only hesitates a little before he rests his head on Cas’ chest. It feels good and he doesn’t even care that Sam will most likely make fun of him when he finds them in the morning. And he thoroughly ignores all the doubts and the worries that keep rising up in his mind, Cas clearly doesn’t mind, so really, why should he?

With that thought he falls asleep.

* * *

 

He wakes up with the peculiar sensation of being watched. Intently. At first Dean can’t quite place where he is or what the warm cushion is that his head rests on, but memories slowly come back, along with the throbbing reminders of his injuries. His face feels swollen and he can only halfway open his left eye when he finally blinks them open.

And that also explains who the person behind him is. Dean doesn’t want to turn around, turning around means acknowledging Cas’ presence and the implications of their position and he can’t deal with that right now. But he knows that Cas is staring, he can feel his gaze on his back and it makes the hair on his neck prickle as they rise up.

“Good morning Dean.” Cas greets, his voice sending shivers down Dean’s spine, and with that the decision is taken out of Dean’s hands. He turns around to look at Cas, but the words he might have said stay stuck in his throat as he looks into Cas’ smiling eyes. There’s so much warmth, affection even and suddenly Dean only minds half as much that Cas apparently was watching him sleep.

It’s still creepy though.

“Morning.” He smiles, the skin on his face pulling awkwardly around the bruise as he moves his mouth. Cas frowns and raises his hand to touch the bruise but Dean quickly backs off. His expression falls and Cas averts his eyes. “It’s still sore.” Dean explains with an apologetic shrug and for some reason it isn’t as weird as it should be, waking up with his head cradled in Cas’ lap, getting stared at and greeted with a warm smile, all that while half naked. It feels almost natural and Dean finds himself reluctant to move out of the comfort of his position.

Cas nods in understanding and instead cradles Dean’s neck with his hand and with that all ideas about getting up and maybe take a shower (or pee, because duh) are wiped off Dean’s mental to do list. He shouldn’t feel this comfortable, not after how much effort he put into not talking to Cas, but he can’t find the will to care.

“What time is it?” He asks eventually, because his bladder doesn’t like to be ignored and he has the slight suspicion that it is later than he would like it to be.

“Shortly before noon.” Cas answers and his fingers start gently rubbing at Dean’s neck and he fights the urge to close his eyes.

Dean groans, it _is_ later than he would have liked but with how late he went to sleep last night there obviously was no helping it.

“Sam wanted to wake you, but I stopped him. You needed your rest.” Cas continues and Dean groans again. Sam will never let him live that one down.

“Where is he?” Dean asks as he slowly pushes himself up.

“Preparing lunch, I presume.” Cas informs, sounding slightly disappointed as he has to withdraw his fingers. “He seemed like he wanted to speak to you.”

“Lucky me.” Dean comments.  Sam either wants to talk or he wants to _talk_ , and somehow Dean’s got the feeling that it’s the latter. This kind of talk never means anything good, he has this knack for wanting to talk about emotional stuff, about things Dean usually doesn’t want to talk about and usually he has a way of forcing that conversation out of Dean one way or another. And after finding his emotionally repressed brother sleeping in Cas’ arms, bruised up no less, Dean has a vague idea what it is, Sam would like to speak about. He doesn’t like it one bit.

“I need a shower.” Dean stretches once after standing up, noticing with no small amount of pride that Cas eyes stay glued on his torso the whole time. He knows that he is quite good looking, and he used that fact to his advantage more than one time, but he never felt this kind of excitement with anyone else but Cas. It’s like he’s basking in the glow of Cas’ gaze and he even finds himself preening just a bit.

“You should probably take one too, and wash those clothes. I know you don’t sweat but you’ve been wearing them for days and they’re bound to get dirty. You can shower right?” At least he’s heard that bots are all waterproof and stuff.

 Cas makes an aborted noise, sounding suspiciously like a moan. Dean’s head whips around and he stares at Cas, who still sits on the couch, staring at him, mouth hanging slightly open and with a certain look of trepidation in his eyes.

It takes a moment longer than it should for Dean to realize the implication of his words. “I was not implying that you’d have to take the shower with me.” Dean says, voice gentle. He banishes every little shred of doubt that tells him that Cas wouldn’t want to shower with him anyway, that he looks like this because he’s disgusted by the thought, because he’s seen that look before, he visited enough brothels when he was younger to remember the scared expression on those unfortunate virgins that got dragged there by their peers. Terrified but also immeasurably aroused.

But there is something else in Cas’ eyes, something hidden underneath the obvious, a kind of dread that runs deeper than any of the other emotions he has seen on Cas before and that makes his stomach clench almost painfully. And that is why he goes for gentle instead of cocky, why he allows the care to slip in his voice, because he’s afraid to see the blank wash over Cas’ face again.

He doesn’t bother with trying to understand what _that_ means for him.

Cas blinks at him, for a moment he looks lost, confused but then he tilts his head just slightly to stare at Dean. “I wasn’t…” He trails off and frowns, the look of confusion deepens. “Apologies, there must have been an error with the data processing. What were you saying?”

Okay, weird.

It is most likely something Dean should worry about, but before he can say anything more, they are interrupted by Sam.

“I see you’re finally awake, Dean.” Sam greets with a smug grin, but Dean is still too worried about what just happened to pay much attention, let alone grace Sam with a reply. Cas is acting all weird, and then there’s that reaction he had to Dean’s words.

“Good morning Sam.” Cas says and the happy expression falls from Sam’s face.

“You already said good morning Cas.” Sam says slowly, and now there’s worry there and he glances at Dean but there’s no answer he can give.

Cas blinks again but this time it isn’t followed by confusion but by a light smile, that somehow fails to reach his eyes. It doesn’t seem like he’s doing it on purpose; it’s more like he has temporarily forgotten how to work all of his face into one emotion.  “Right. I apologize. There must have been a faulty duplication in protocol.” Somehow Dean doubts that this is the real reason but he doesn’t know enough about bot software to say for sure and since Sam seems to accept it, there’s not much he can do.

 “It’s alright, I guess that happens.” Sam nods once at Cas before he focuses his attention on Dean. But before Dean can open his mouth to protest (he’s not in the mood for this kind of emotional conversation) Sam’s face breaks into a broad grin and he says: “Guess who’s back in.”

Dean is confused, he has expected a lot, but none of that entailed an enthusiastic Sam nearly bouncing on his feet as he waits for Dean to catch up to him. “Back in what?”

Sam rolls his eyes, but it’s no real annoyance. “With my PhD. The dean agreed on allowing me to work for Angelbot for my thesis and I have a meeting with Mr. Shurley and Sarah later this afternoon, regarding the specifics. But if everything goes well I can start on Monday. Not on Cas, but still.”

Dean can’t help but grin, this is indeed good news. “Good for you Sammy.” He slaps a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “We should celebrate.”

“Not today, I’ve got a date with Jess tonight.”

Dean winks suggestively at him.

Sam sticks out his tongue.

“Anyway, what happened to your face?” The joy he had felt at Sam’s good news vanishes instantly. He doesn’t want to talk about it, but he can’t let that show because if one thing keeps Sam going, it is when he feels that Dean is avoiding a subject. So he just shrugs noncommittally.

“I had to break up a bar fight.” And thank the almighty gods of pie that it’s true. He _had_ to break up a fight and the injury happened during that fight, even though that fight kind of led to the shit that happened afterwards. Sam, thankfully, buys his explanation, but Dean doesn’t miss the look that Cas gives him, because his reaction yesterday certainly wasn’t just because of a bar fight.

“Okay, I’m going to take my shower now.” Dean announces before Sam can get any ideas and ask why he was cuddling with Cas. His brother, the smooth bastard, gives him a knowing look though and Dean decides that he just doesn’t care enough to give a proper reply. It felt good and Cas didn’t mind, so why bother with worrying about it? It’s not that he hurt anyone. But he knows that Sam won’t drop the fact, he will just address it later, when Dean least expects it.

He pauses to ask Cas again if he’d like to take a shower, but thinks better of it. He doesn’t want to trigger that reaction again. But before he can leave the room he is stopped, to his not exactly small surprise, by Cas’ voice.

“Dean. I’d like to take that shower later.” He says, fidgeting nervously with his hands and refuses to meet his eyes. “And to wash my clothes.” Sam gives them a wary look but thankfully he doesn’t say anything and just leaves with a mumbled “lunch is in the kitchen”.

Dean takes a long a look at Cas, takes in the nervousness, the wariness of his motions and the flicker of his eyes that refuse to stay in one place. There’s something that sets Cas off, but he won’t pry into it, not if Cas doesn’t want to talk about it on his own. That’s what he would like in that situation.

“Sure, I’ll wash your clothes when you take your shower.“ He keeps his stance easy, non-threatening, careful not to spook Cas again. Wherever this sudden frailty came from, he’s going to make sure that Cas isn’t stressed more than absolutely necessary. It’s quick and Cas conceals it almost immediately, but Dean doesn’t miss the short look of relief that flickers over Cas’ face at his words.

And even though he tells himself that it has nothing to do with him, but with the strange panic from earlier, Dean still feels a sting of hurt in his chest.

And it shouldn’t actually surprise him, not after jacking of to thoughts of Cas, not after he witnessed the effect Cas has on him so many times, that he really likes the idea of sharing a shower with Cas.


	15. Chapter 15

The rest of Saturday passes in relative peace, aside from some stern looks from both Bobby and Jody, regarding the state of his face. But they’re used worse from him, at least Bobby is, so Dean just shrugs and is secretly relieved that everyone apparently bought his ‘bar fight’ explanation.

Everyone except Cas.

He doesn’t press, not openly, but he keeps staring at Dean with that questioning tilt-frown that is so typical for him. And Dean is torn. For one thing he would like to talk to Cas, he has already shown that he’s understanding and Dean clings to the hope that he won’t judge as harshly as Cassie did. But that is really the problem. There is a chance that he will react the same and that cripples Dean. He would try to avoid Cas, but the thought alone makes him feel bad so he endures the other’s silent fussing.

He doesn’t mind that much really.

His shoulder hurts more than he would expect from a simple abrasion but after he let Cas take another look, he concludes that the bone might have suffered some damage too, not a fraction, but enough to make moving pretty painful. Dean refuses a doctor and since Jess isn’t there, Bobby has to dig out his old army skills and he wraps up Dean’s shoulder in a tight bandage, and after a lot of arguing and one pointed puppy look from Cas he concedes to taking the day off.

Really, he’s starting to suspect that Cas exactly knows what that look does to him. It’s not so much the puppy eyes, he’s used to them from Sam, but it’s the fact that it’s Cas who pulls it Cas, who can look at him like Dean’s the very center of the world. He doubts he can ever say no to that.

Bobby soon disappears again, having Dean patched up and ‘better things to do than play babysitter’ and Dean is alone with Cas. Sam is off to his meeting with Chuck Shurley and his lunch has long since been eaten. Dean is forbidden from leaving his spot on the couch and Cas makes an art out of trying to read every wish he could possibly have from his eyes. And only when Dean has made Cas swear to never ever tell Sam about this, he allows himself to indulge in Cas’ intense care.

Dean lies propped up against a mountain of pillows on the couch, legs sprawled out over Cas’ thighs next to him, a way of keeping him in place. He has a bowl of popcorn in his lap and a can of soda standing on the side table. He had to downright force Cas to sit down with him, because he kept insisting on getting Dean this and that until Dean has finally had enough.

“Relax, I won’t heal any faster with you running around like crazy.” He hadn’t said any more but the real reason for this was that it gives him opportunity to spend time with Cas, just like this and that feels way better than it has any right to. He’s content, despite the aching pain in his shoulder, despite the constant throbbing in his face and he’s willing to hold on to that as long as possible.

They’re watching some kind of game show and Dean has taken to guessing along with the candidates.

“What is the molecular weight of oxygen?” The quizmaster asks and there is an obvious look of panic on the current candidate’s face.

“Oh come one, who knows that?” Dean throws his hands up in exasperation. He was rooting for the candidate and now she will be kicked out most definitely.

“15.999 u.” Cas says quietly and Dean’s hands drop to his sides.

“What?”

“The atomic weight of oxygen is 15.999 unified atomic mass units.” Cas repeats and looks at Dean as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“How come you know things like that but not how to brew your own coffee?” Dean asks incredulous, the struggle of the candidate momentarily forgotten.

Cas frowns. “I don’t know. I just… know.”

Dean doesn’t know for a moment what to say, but then the television suddenly roars with groans of disappointment as the moderator exclaims that “16! The right answer is 16 and not 34. And you’re out.” He reaches over to lower the volume with the remote and then looks at Cas again.

“It’s okay.” He finds himself saying, the need to comfort and reassure Cas almost overwhelming. Somehow Cas’ hand has found its way into his and he squeezes lightly, something he has done quite a lot during the last few weeks. But it’s easy in a way, because Cas’ hand just fits perfectly in his as if it were made for him.

“I’m sorry.” Cas finally says and Dean sits up in surprise.

“For what? Cas, there is nothing you need to be sorry for.”

 “But I’m a burden. I have all this useless knowledge but I still don’t understand how to use the dishwasher. What use is in all that sophisticated knowledge when I can’t handle common human life? I even need help to find a job. And I-“ He cuts himself off and looks away, grip tightening around Dean’s hand.

“You what?” Dean asks gently, TV blaring in the background but they both ignore it.

“I think I’m defect.” Cas says and his eyes are wide as he looks at Dean. There’s worry there, and a deep reaching fear that wrenches something in Dean’s gut.

“Why would you think that?” Dean asks, pulling his legs up to sit up straight and face Cas fully. “Cas, we can fix that.” He says without thinking, it doesn’t matter, he won’t let Cas go so easily. There’s a fierce pain suddenly, a primal fear of losing Cas and he instinctively tightens his grip, wanting nothing more than to pull Cas closer and never let go. And that’s when he realizes it, that he’s already too far gone over the edge, there’s no going back now. The mere thought of losing Cas sends him into a near panic attack.

“But I don’t even know what’s broken.” Cas says, voice almost inaudible against the noise of the television. Dean mutes it completely with an angry push of the button. “I have these memory errors, flashbacks sometimes and whenever I have one I miss a moment of real time.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. This is more Sam’s area of expertise, but he’s not here right now and Dean doesn’t know if he will be able to help Cas. “What kind of errors?”

“’Corrupted data, access not recommended. Data incomplete, extrapolation not possible, access not recommended.’ I get these whenever I try to gain access to the memory flashbacks. They also give me headaches.”

Dean frowns as he tries to make sense out of Cas’ explanation. “So basically what you’re saying is that you have the memory somewhere but it’s corrupted and you can’t access it?” Wow, that was actually easier to understand than he’d thought.

“Yes.”

“Cas, that doesn’t mean that you’re defect, that just means you can’t remember something, because the data is incomplete, you know, like a hangover?”

Cas frowns at him. “I never had a hangover.”

“Yeah right, I remember that.” Dean says dryly, remembering far too well what Cas’ alternative to a hangover was. “Look, I’m not too experienced with this stuff but isn’t there supposed to be some backup? The memory should be stored somewhere and you should be able to access it. Or you could just delete it.”

“Deletion not possible.” Cas reiterates and Dean sighs. Dean can’t say he’s not curious about these memories, they’re most likely what happened to Cas before they found him, but he’s also aware that there’s something wrong with the whole picture. Cas is perfectly functional, except for this memory thing, and it looks too much like someone purposely wiped those specific memories, doing a piss poor job and in the process messing up Cas’ system.

“I could…” Cas starts but trails off as he thinks on whatever it is he might or might not be able to do. “I could try to connect manually to my memory core and retrieve the memory data directly, and install them back into my system. That way I would bypass the system restrictions.”

“Is that dangerous?”

“Probably. I could end up deleting all of my memories, but we could externally store a safety copy. And the corruption could, of course, prevail.”

“You can do that?” Dean asks, not so secretly impressed. “Like movies on Blu-ray or something?”

Cas squints at him, spelling pretty clearly what he thinks of that idea. “No, you wouldn’t be able to access them, they’re encrypted and you need a certain software to read the data.” Dean is probably more disappointed than he should be.

“Okay then. D’you wanna do it?”

“I’m not sure. It is risky, I could lose essential data, regardless of the safety copy. And the system errors are not necessarily dangerous, just unpleasant.” He grimaces slightly to indicate the headache.

“Well, it’s your choice. If those errors aren’t dangerous, there’s no need to rush, right? You can always take the time to think it through. I’ll be behind you, whatever you choose.” He didn’t intend for the last part to come out aloud, he hadn’t even realized that he wanted to say it but now that he had, he feels that it is true. He wants to help Cas, and he trusts him to make the right decision.

“Thank you Dean.” Cas says, and there is so much warmth and appreciation in his voice. They hold each other’s gaze for a few moments before Cas frowns disapprovingly. “You should lay back down Dean. Your shoulder needs rest.” Dean laughs softly and allows Cas to guide him back against the pillows. Cas even pulls his legs back up into his lap and starts massaging his feet.

Dean unmutes the TV and they return to watching in companionable silence.

* * *

 

Sam comes back eventually from his meeting and Dean only needs to see the skip in his step to know that it went well. Good for him then. He can’t help but feel a little bitter that everything works out for Sam, that he never seems to have to struggle like Dean does. But he knows that isn’t fair, just because Dean never had it easy doesn’t mean that Sam now has to have a hard time.

It’s just so hard sometimes to watch Sam, Sam who has his life in order, who has Jess and who can laugh so easily, while Dean still has to hide parts of his past, while Dean comes home with bruises he can’t explain. And he feels guilty, because Sam has earned all this, and Dean deserves all he’s got, so really, the universe is just dealing out just desserts. Besides he has Cas now, and even if their relationship is fragile at best, it’s still one of the best things that ever happened to him. As if he had heard Dean’s thoughts, Cas thumbs press into the ball of his foot and Dean closes his eyes as the sensation shoots through his body. He never would have thought that something like that could feel this good.

Sam shoots him a look and then asks with that voice that he specifically reserves for Dean: “Can we, uh, talk?” He’s tempted to say no, he wants to stay with Cas and enjoy the lazy afternoon but something in Sam’s eyes convinces him to get up regardless. Cas insists on helping him up though and only once he has safely delivered Dean onto the helping shoulder of his brother, that he sits down on the couch.

He preemptively elbows Sam before he can make any comment about the coddling, earning him a surprised yelp from Sam and a very confused squint from Cas. Thankfully Sam just decides to ignore it and hobbles Dean into the kitchen. Why he needs to be suspended on Sam’s shoulder is beyond Dean, but he has given up on trying to get out of Cas’ ideas of nursing him. If ever asked, he would vehemently deny that he enjoyed it though.

Sam dumps him on a chair and goes over to the coffee machine, busying himself with preparing two cups. He seems nervous, all traces of his previous happiness gone and Dean can’t help but start to worry. “Okay, spill it Sammy.”

“Dean, I don’t know how to say it, but I’m worried about Cas.” Sam doesn’t look at him, instead he keeps fiddling with the coffeemaker, even though the machine is already working.

“So?”

Sam sighs, exasperated. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed it. He has memory lapses, periods where he’s unresponsive and he confuses information. I asked Jess about it, but she didn’t know anything so I asked some people at the university.”

Okay, Dean really doesn’t like the sound of that.

“Look Sam, I’ve already talked to Cas and he said it is some sort of memory error but he might be able to fix it.”

“Dean…” Sam runs a hand through his hair as he finally turns around. “That’s one of the possibilities, but it also could be a virus or some irreparable system error. I know you don’t want to hear it, but this could be something serious. I mean Cas wouldn’t have been dumped like that if he were okay.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Dean snaps, short of slamming his hand on the table. “Cas is not just some damaged machine that we throw away the moment we have no more use for him. It’s Cas damn it.”

“I know. Do you think this is easy for me? Heck, Cas is like family for me too, in case you forgot that.” Sam snaps back and for a moment the brothers are glaring at each other. It’s Sam who looks away first and Dean allows himself to relax again at his brother’s surrender.

“We’ll fix this Sammy. We’ve been through so much shit together and we always handle it. It’s what we do, it’s what we always do. We’ll find a way to fix Cas, you’ve got your funding now, so why don’t you try and work on Cas.”

Sam smiles weakly, takes up the cups with coffee and places one in front of Dean. “I could try. Or I could get Chuck to look him over, he’s head of research he might have an idea.”

“See.” Dean stands up and takes his coffee. “There’s always a way.” He turns around and heads to leave the kitchen to rejoin Cas in the living room.

“Yes.” Sam says and Dean ignores the doubt in Sam’s voice, he ignores the creasing lines of worry on his forehead. He needs to believe that there is a way, no he doesn’t need to believe it, he knows it. Nothing will happen to Cas, because Dean will do everything in his power to protect him.

* * *

 

Dean goes to bed eventually and he has to fight off Cas almost physically, to get at least some private time in the bathroom. Cas insists on making sure that he’s comfortable once in bed, and Dean is torn between having bedroom thoughts and amusement over how adorable Cas looks as he tucks him in. It’s domestic, it’s sweet and Dean can just feel the diabetics, but Cas looks so happy when he fluffs up Dean’s pillows and carefully lays them out for him.

Under other circumstances he might have ignored all the doubts and inhibitions and just push Cas down into the cushions, and do some questionable things to him, it’s what his body wants to do anyway, and he has a hunch that Cas wouldn’t mind. But Sam’s words still swirl in his head, how it might be something else, something more dangerous and he can’t summon the will to do anything that might mess up Cas’ system even more.

“Good night Dean.” Cas says as he switches off the lights and leaves to go back to the marathon of ‘Family Ties’ that is currently airing.

Dean feels overstuffed with all the pillows in his back and the blanket bunched over him. He knows Cas means well but right now it feels a bit overbearing. He’s tired but sleep won’t come to him and soon he’s tossing and turning, head thrumming with all the things he’s learned today. He was able to keep the worry to the sidelines as long as he was busy with watching television and generally enjoying Cas’ presence, but now that he’s trying to sleep he can’t ignore it any longer.

The implications of Sam’s words are clear, if there is indeed something else wrong with Cas he might get irreversibly damaged and that could very well lead to his death. The thought makes Dean almost physically sick. His body is covered in sweat and he has to throw off the blanket to get some air, but after only a few moments the night air is too cold on his moist skin and he has to pull the blanket back.

He can’t stop thinking about Cas, and the worry churns thick in his stomach. It should frighten him that he’s so vulnerable but he just knows that he couldn’t stand to lose Cas. He’s grown into an important part of his life, even after this short time. Dean stares up at the dark ceiling, a trickle of faint starlight pouring in through a gap between the curtains, there are no streetlights outside of Bobby’s house.

So much time he had spent on avoiding the subject, so much time he had convinced himself that what he feels for Cas is only platonic, a carnal desire for his body maybe, but he has always known that there is more. But what if Sam is right and Cas really is damaged beyond repair? Could he stand to live on without having ever told him that there is more? Or would it break him to tell him just to lose him right after.

But he can’t afford to think like that, nothing will happen to Cas, they will find a way. It sounded more convincing when he said it to Sam this afternoon, but now in the dark he is not so sure anymore. He needs to be sure though, he needs to believe that he will find a solution. He doesn’t want to live without Cas anymore, even if it’s just a friend, even if they never get more than this.

Everything is better than without him.

As frightening as that is.

Dean doesn’t know how long he’s lying there, but it must be rather late, he had heard Sam return at some point and now the house is completely silent. Not for long though.

There is a soft knock on his door and Dean pushes himself up before he calls his visitor in. He’s not really surprised when he sees it’s Cas, it would be more accurate even, to say he is pleased. (Not only because Cas apparently learned his lesson about knocking upon late night visits.)

Not so pleasant is the look of panic on Cas’ face.

“Dean, it is terrible.”

“Cas, what happened?” Dean is up in a heartbeat, ignoring his protesting shoulder that complains about the sudden movement, and he is at Cas’ side a moment later. “Are you alright?” Countless scenarios race through his head, the system error, it must be the error, is acting up, causing Cas pain and Dean almost panics too, because he doesn’t know what to do.

“Natasha’s mother had an affair with Patrick, so she is in truth his daughter and has committed incest with her half brothers.” It takes Dean an impressively long time until he manages to make sense of Cas’ words. And the flood of relief that washes over him is almost enough to make him lose his footing.

“Dammit Cas. Don’t scare me like that.” Cas just looks at him with that confused squint-frown and Dean can’t really be angry at him, not when he looks like that. Not when the relief is so overwhelming that apparently everything is fine and Cas just got overexcited over an episode of ‘Family Ties’ again.

“Apologies. I never intended to scare you.”

Dean weakly waves a hand and drops to sit on his bed. “Just don’t barge in my room while looking like you’re chased by hellhounds.”

“I didn’t barge in.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Apologies. I shouldn’t have woken you.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine, I couldn’t sleep anyway. So what happened now with Natasha and her mother? I didn’t know she had an affair with Patrick?” He might as well indulge Cas. (It’s certainly not because he’s curious about the newest developments of ‘Family Ties’, and it’s especially not because Cas just walked into his room in the middle of the night, looking quite ruffled and more attractive than he has every right to.)

“Yes, it came as quite a surprise. I certainly didn’t expect it, albeit the name should have given it away. Natasha, Nat, in hindsight it was obvious, I can’t believe I missed it for so long.”

Dean laughs as he runs a hand through his hair. He sits back against the wall on the side of the bed, covers pulled up over his lap. Cas is still standing in the door, his body framed by the light that pours in from the downstairs lamp and for a short fleeting moment he looks almost angelic, the glow dances around his head like a halo.

The words stay stuck in Dean’s throat for a moment as the images burns itself into his mind, Cas’ eyes glowing blue, incandescent almost. It’s surreal and Dean has to blink quite a few times until the image is cleared and Cas looks his normal self again. He realizes that Cas is staring at him, expectantly as if he is waiting for Dean to say something. And he probably is.

He doesn’t really know what makes him do it but Dean scoots over just slightly and makes room for Cas next to him, patting the now empty space as an invitation. It’s probably all kinds of suggestive but Dean just feels like having Cas close while they talk. He’s still not tired and secretly he craves a bit of contact, which he would never admit, not even at gunpoint.

“I kind of expected it.” Dean says with a shrug, once Cas has sat down next to him, taking in the surprise on the other’s face. “Yeah, it’s like you said, the name made it pretty obvious. ‘Family Ties’ is many things, but not subtle.” Cas frowns and tilts his head, deep thinking something again.

“I was shocked to learn that Natasha’s mother set her up to have incestuous intercourse with all of her brothers, I underestimated her drive for revenge.”

“Well, it’s a bit drastic. Wait, wasn’t she pregnant with Matt’s child?”

“Yes, but she miscarried after she got in the middle of the fight between Matt and Chad about the fatherhood. Chad accidentally shoved her and she fell on her stomach if I recall correctly.”

Dean shakes his head in light amusement. He needs to catch up with the show some time, but judging from what Cas told him, he hasn’t really missed much quality television. Sure, the show’s a classic and there are tons of re-runs but Dean can only stomach so much episodes at once before he needs to watch some good old movie, or he’ll go crazy with all the blown-out-of proportions problems and life shattering tragedies that always turn up when the show’s threatening to go through a drag.

“Okay, what else happened?” He’s not really sure if he actually _wants_ to catch up. It seems that the show is slowly degrading in quality, from more or less realistic (but overdone) story telling into jump-the-shark territory.

“Pat has prostate cancer but refuses to tell his family, which has put a strain on his marital relationship and Kat has been put into a mental hospital because no one believes her that she can see the ghost of her great grandfather.” Cas reiterates with a stoic voice and Dean has to hide a laugh. He makes it sound like he is reading the news, considering the drama that has apparently been going on, makes it all the more amusing.

“See Cas, if you want to learn anything about human and emotions, that’s what you should be referring to.” Dean stretches out his legs under the covers and if the motion causes him to slide an extra bit closer to Cas then that is not at all intentional.

“I don’t understand. Am I required to impregnate someone and then challenge everyone for fatherhood?” Cas looks at him, dead-serious that Dean believes for a moment that he actually _is_. That is, until Cas’ lips crack up into a smile.

“Did you just use _sarcasm_?” Dean asks incredulous and Cas’ smile widens into a grin.

“I had a good teacher.” He smirks and Dean has to admit that Cas is damn sexy like this. They’re close now, heads turned so that they’re looking at each other and Dean is suddenly aware that he can make out the individual hairs of Cas’ perpetual 5 o’ clock shadow. They’re strangely attractive.

“Yeah?” Dean asks, voice husky and he can actually see the small shudder that runs through Cas’ body. Cas’ tongue darts out to wet his lips, a subconscious gesture, but it has Dean’s blood sing hot through his veins all the same. He can’t recall how they ended up in that position, or what it was he said last, all that matters is the soft sheen of saliva on Cas’ lips, the slight flare of his nostrils as he takes a breath he doesn’t really need.

“Yes.” Cas says softly and Dean doesn’t know if it is an answer to Dean’s last words or a permission. Maybe both. And then that doesn’t matter anymore either, because he can feel Cas’ breath tingling on his lips and then there’s the soft press of chapped lips against his and every other thought than ohmygodyesCas in his brain is fried as the sensation shoots through every nerve in his body.

The world centers on that moment, the soft pressing of lips against lips. It’s innocent and brief and so much better than anything he’s ever imagined. They break apart only shortly after, breathless and eyes locked on each other. Dean searches Cas’ face for any trace of discomfort, for a sign that he didn’t like it but all he sees is warmth and something that is painfully close to affection.

“Cas-“ Dean breathes but he is silenced when Cas pulls him in again, hand clasping firmly at the back of his neck and this time the kiss is far less innocent. Cas’ teeth drag over his lips, tongue following and it’s only after a short moment of stunned shock that Dean regains his sense and kisses back. It’s wild and sloppy and at the same time gentle. There’s a soft moan and Dean can’t say from whom, and it really doesn’t matter.

He drags his hand down Cas’ back, pulling him close until he sits halfway on his lap, Cas’ hand carding through his hair. Cas moans again and the sound shoots right down into Dean’s crotch. It’s the hottest and filthiest sound he has ever heard, and his imagination shoots into overdrive as he thinks of all the things he could do to Cas to pull more sounds like this from his mouth.

Cas’ hand grips tighter in his hair as he pulls at his lower lips with his teeth, blunt nails dragging over the fabric of that damned trench coat that somehow manages to still be sexy even though it’s clearly in the way. He knows he’s moving too fast, but it’s so hard to restrain himself when Cas’ cheeks are flushed red, when he’s panting against Dean’s lips and when all he wants is to push Cas down and rip all those clothes off him.

It takes all his self-control to push his hand up between them and gently break them apart. “Cas…” The look in Cas’ eyes almost shatters his resolve, his eyes are hooded and his lips are slightly parted, shining red with Dean’s effort. “Is this…” His thoughts are whirling and it’s hard to focus with Cas being so close and he has to start again. “Is this really what you want?”

“Dean.” Cas’ voice is even deeper than usual , rough and gravelly and it does nothing to improve Dean’s condition. “I have waited for this a long time.” His hand comes up to rest on Dean’s cheek and the look in Cas’ eyes is nothing but sincere.

Dean is lost somewhere between Cas’ words and that look, it doesn’t make sense, all of it, it really doesn’t make any sense. He has been pining over Cas since almost the get go and he has forced himself to accept that he’s the only one, so how can it be that Cas is now looking at him like he is the center of his world?

“Are you sure?” It’s a dumb question, the first thing that comes to his mind, but Dean has to ask, he has to know, because if that is true-

“Of course.” Cas says and his other hand comes up to cradle Dean’s face in his palms. “You are everything I could wish for Dean. I don’t know if I even am supposed to feel like this, but I can’t help it. I just can’t stop thinking about you.” How can he not believe those words when they’re spoken with so much earnest and sincerity?

And then it hits him. Cas just confessed to having feelings for him, feelings that might go beyond his programming, feelings that are new and unknown for him and he has had those feelings for quite a while now. 

He hates what that thought does to him. He can feel the burn behind his eyes, the quiver in his lips as Cas’ face before him starts to blur. It’s one thing to brace for rejection, for a joke maybe, that this is nothing serious, he could have done that, it was everything he dared to expect after all, but he can’t handle _this_.

Cas’ hands are still on his face, a gentle press and reminder that he’s here, that he’s not going anywhere and that everything he just said is true. “Dean, why are you crying?” There’s worry and Cas’ eyes are wide as he tries to understand why Dean could possibly be crying.

Instead of an answer Dean just pulls him in for a kiss, pouring all of his emotions, the turmoil in his chest and mind into the soft press of lips, his hands grasping into the front of Cas’ jacket. He should say something probably, tell Cas what he feels, but he can’t, the words are stuck and for now this has to be enough.

Somehow he ends up on Cas’ lap, upper body pressed against Cas’ chest and he buries his face in the nape of Cas’ neck. He’s still only wearing underwear and a shirt and Cas is still fully dressed but it doesn’t matter, because Cas’ arms hold him and he can feel Cas’ lips in his hair. 

“Since when?” he finally has the courage to asks, words mumbled against the soft curve of Cas’ neck.

“Since the moment you told me you believed in me to get my emotions back.” Cas’ voice is soft, reverent almost and Dean has to close his eyes for a moment. That was such a long time ago, so much happened in between and all this time Dean has struggled with his own emotions. It seems so stupid now, all the time he spent worrying, all the time he struggled with the fact that he wasn’t supposed to feel for a bot, while now he can’t even remember why it was supposed to be a bad thing.

And maybe he still isn’t supposed to feel for a bot, and maybe he will regret this later, but right now it feels good and Dean decides that he’d rather take the risk now, than pass this chance by and regret it for an eternity afterwards. Even he deserves a bit of happiness after all.

“Almost as long as I then.” He says and smiles when he can hear the sharp intake of breath from Cas, can feel him tense up underneath him, before he slowly relaxes again, pressing a soft kiss on the top of Dean’s head, fingers tightening where they hold on to him.

And every once in a while, Dean thinks, a chick flick moment might not even be so bad.   


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I apologize for any inaccuracies regarding funnel cake, it has been 7 years since the last (and only) time I ate funnel cake. It was delicious and there was a lot of sugar involved. That’s all I remember.
> 
> I miss funnel cake :/

Morning finds them in a more or less comfortable position, Dean lying half on his side, upper body twisted to rest against Cas’ chest, who still sits with his back against the wall. Dean needs a few moments to blink the drowsiness out of his eyes and is then immediately hit with a strong sense of déjà-vu. Cas is watching him again, has probably for the whole night and even though there is still that warmth settled deep in his chest, Dean can’t deny that this is definitely creepy.

And to be honest, who would want to watch someone else sleep _for hours_? Heck, he was probably drooling through half of it.

Dean’s back hurts and his legs feel numb from the awkward position, and he spends at least a minute with stretching until his spine has popped back into place (that’s at least how it feels) until he sits up and faces his pillow.

“Good morning Dean.” Cas says with a soft smile and Dean’ll be damned, Cas hasn’t moved from his position from the night before, but he looks like he has been rolling through the sheets for at least a few hours, and Dean has to make serious effort to fight the urge to run his hands through Cas’ hair, making it even messier than it already is.

“Morning.” Dean tries a smile, and it doesn’t even feel half as awkward as he expected. It’s strange, Cas has fit so easily in his life as just as friends, but the transition from friend to _more_ seems even easier. Sleep watching notwithstanding.

“Dude, have you been watching me the whole night?” Yeah, maybe he was sleeping too, he should be able to go into some kind of standby, like the energy saving mode. Watching one guy sleep, can’t be that entertaining.

“Yes.”

Or not. Maybe Dean _is_ entertaining when he sleeps. Hopefully not.

“That’s kind of creepy.” Along with the fact that Dean sits half naked in his bed while Cas hasn’t even lost his coat, although it is hanging half off his shoulders, and not to forget _that_ tie, you know the one that is perpetually the wrong way around. God, Dean can’t decide if he wants to fix it or leave it as it is, because, let’s face it, Cas is about the only one who can look like that and still be sexy.

It should be noted that Dean’s thoughts right now are guided mostly by morning wood, not even creepy staring could chop down that tree.

Also, he probably shouldn’t try to use metaphors this early in the morning, the result is nothing but embarrassing.

Cas seems like he doesn’t know what to do with that information, he’s squinting again. “I was watching over you.” As if that would explain everything.

Dean shifts awkwardly to get the blanket to bunch in his lap, he doesn’t want to spook Cas with his boner, first thing in the morning. It’s not that he would be opposed to some kind of guy on guy action, but he feels like this is something special, that deserves care and caution, something he shouldn’t rush. Cas has been through a lot, at least that’s what Dean assumes, and judging from the state they found him in, he isn’t so far off with that. Dean doesn’t really want to think about what could have put him in that state, the possibilities are all scary.

Anyway, Cas has been through a lot and aside from his try at domestic life with Amelia he doesn’t seem to have any real experience and even more important, Dean _wants_ to take it slow. He doesn’t want to mess this up, he wants this to work more like he has wanted anything in a very long time. He doesn’t want this to be a fling, a onetime thing like all the other ‘relationships’ he’s had before.

And that scares him.

He has a long history of screw ups, it’s what he does, he tries and he fails and he has long accepted that he will never have something great in his life, aside from Sammy. But Sam stands on his own two feet, and he has Jess now and he really doesn’t need Dean anymore. So all Dean has showing for himself is his love for cars and old school rock music, and somehow he doubts that this is enough to keep Cas interested.

And just like that he can feel the doubts creeping in on him, telling him to give it up before he can get in too deep, before he can disappoint Cas and hurt himself in the process.

“Dean, what is wrong?” Cas is kneeling next to him, forehead creased with worry, and really now, he shouldn’t worry Cas with his crap. He opens his mouth to say that it’s nothing but somehow he can’t bring himself to, not when Cas is looking at him like he’s really listening, like he’s genuinely caring.

“I just…” Dean runs a hand through his hair, he hates talking about feelings, it makes him feel insecure and vulnerable, he’d much rather pretend that nothing is wrong, force a cocky grin and hope that no one sees through it. But for some reason he’s not able to do that with Cas.

“I don’t want to mess this up.” He finally settles on the truth. Honesty is after all the most important thing in a relationship. Cas is squinting at him again, and Dean knows him well enough to recognize it as Cas’ universal sign of confusion.

“Dean, why would you think that you’re going to mess this up?” Because he always screws up, because he’s a failure, because even his father had always been disappointed in him.

Because he can’t forget the look on Cassie’s face when she kicked him out of her life.

Because this is serious and he has avoided everything even remotely serious like the plague ever since Cassie slammed that door in his face.

“Dean.” How is it possible for Cas to lay so many different emotions in just this one word? Cas manages to put a world of meanings into his name and just that has Dean’s heart throb in his chest almost painfully.

“I’m not good at these things.” Dean finally allows, looking anywhere but Cas. “I don’t know how to handle emotions, guess I just never learned it.” There’s a soft exhale of breath and Dean looks up to see Cas smile.

“Dean, you told me that I just needed to keep trying and I would get a handle on my emotions. Isn’t it the same for you? That is no reason to not try it. There is nothing you could do wrong that would keep me from caring for you, there is no mistake you could make that I couldn’t make as well. I don’t know much, but I what I know for sure is, that the worst thing you can do is not try at all.”

“It’s not that easy Cas. You just forgot your emotions, but the potential is there. And god I really hate to talk about these things, and that’s precisely the problem. I repress my feelings or I ignore them, because Dad taught me that feelings are a weakness, they just keep you from your goal. Feelings are for chicks and all that stuff.”

“I don’t understand what fowl has to do with anything, but are you really going to let your father dictate your life from his grave?”

It’s out of line, it _should_ be out of line, Dad has never been perfect but he’s done his best and no one is allowed to bad talk him. Only, Dean knows that Cas is right. He doesn’t want to admit it, hell, most of the time he ignores all the bullshit his father has pulled and he just swallows down the negative effects it had (and still has) on his life, and Cas shouldn’t have any right to talk about John when he never knew him, but Cas _is right_. There’s no denying that, not when Dean knows it too.

“So tell me again why there should be any reason for you to mess it up.” There isn’t, fuck there isn’t, not logically at least; there is just a big fat steaming pile of empiric data that proves otherwise (He actually picked that word up from Sam, who likes to throw around scientific terminology every now and then). But that doesn’t change that Cas has a point. Sure, he has a history of failures, but he also managed to raise Sam more or less on his own, put him through college (with questionable methods, but he has no doubt that he would have found a way, even without Alastair), and that is at least something. 

“So you are willing to try.” Dean says, it might be revealing and helpful, but he’ll be really glad when this emotional talk is finally over. He’s just not comfortable with his feelings out on the table. At least his boner is gone by now, not that one more thing that makes him uncomfortable would make so much difference at this point.

“Of course Dean. I care about you, I really do. I haven’t felt this much before, at least not what I can remember, and to put it frankly, you make me happy. You said so yourself, I should pursue the things that make me happy, I should take care of myself.”  

And really, who can argue with that? Certainly not Dean.

* * *

 

Dean isn’t good with labeling things. It took weeks of thinking and over thinking until he shoved Cas into the friend-therefore-his-species-or-whatever-doesn’t-matter category. (Now he’s moved into the looks-human-acts-human-who-even-cares-anymore-might-as-well-be-human category. Not that he kept notes or anything.)

He tries to find a label for what he has with Cas, but nothing feels quite right. It’s a relationship of sorts, but that is really not helping, seeing that he also has a relationship of sorts with Sam and Bobby and even with his dentist if he decides to stretch the definition really wide. Dean absolutely refuses to apply the term boyfriend to Cas, it’s just so young-adult-romantic-novel-cliche-y, and it just doesn’t _feel_ right. And not just because what they have is so new.

They’re a couple, maybe. Lovers? certainly not, Dean won’t think of the L-word, not for a long time at least, he _feels_ for Cas alright, but he won’t allow himself to jump into anything. So what does that leave, mates? As in mate for life?

Okay stop, everyone back on position.

Dean squeezes out the last suds from his hair as he stands under the hot spray of water. Showers are good places to think, and Dean’s thoughts have run astray more than once now. Waking up in Cas’ arms had been nice, despite the creepy sleep watching, and even the uncomfortable part of talking about their emotions wasn’t so bad, well okay, it was bad, but it also cleared up a few things.

It left a lot of things in the dark, too.

How to label their relationship for example. Really, Dean thinks as he gets out of the shower and starts to towel off, why is he even so obsessed with labeling it? It is what it is, no matter what name tag he slaps on top of it. Cas isn’t going anywhere, Sam can pick up his PhD, he has two stable jobs that he likes and his family all have find someone they like, everything is fine so far.

Except, it isn’t.

But no amount of labeling, no amount of trying to fit their relationship into a category, can do something about _that_. Not even Dean actually knows what he can do about that. He doesn’t know if Tom told anyone, if he’s planning on coming back and, worse, if he’s told Alastair. Dean wouldn’t put it past Alastair to find some kind of loophole in his promise and find a way to bother Dean. In fact he expected something like that to happen way earlier than now, Alastair was a son of a bitch, but he was in all ways, effective.

There’s nothing he can do about that, though. He can ask Ellen to ban Tom from entering the Roadhouse and he can ask Ash to make sure none of his personal data is accessible anywhere online. And he can hope that Alastair no longer has interest in him, he should have long lost it anyway, there are better fish out there than Dean ever will be, but it’s Alastair, and Alastair never just lets people go. Especially if people know shit about him that could get him a lifelong prison sentence, and Alastair doesn’t like loose ends, even if said loose ends can’t sell him out without getting themselves into deep shit.

Dean stares at the abrasion on his shoulder, the skin is colored in shades of blue and purple and it will only be a matter of time until it’ll tinge into yellow. The sight makes his fist clench and he wants to smash in the mirror. Sam has bought his bar fight excuse but not completely without a hint of doubt. He has seen the look Sam has given him, the ‘really Dean?’ look, showing more than anything that his brother hasn’t forgotten how Dean used to come home.

Bloody and bruised and refusing to tell Sam what happened. And he clearly hasn’t forgotten how Sam looked when the bruises became scarcer but the blood had stayed. He doesn’t know however, how Sam looked when Dean stopped coming home altogether.

He only remembers the expression on Sam’s face when he finally returned, the wariness and the distrust that took so long until it faded. Sam still doesn’t know what happened, Dean knows he should tell him, but whenever he’s about to, he sees the disappointment before his inner eye and the words die in his throat.

There’s no way Sam could ever forgive him for the things he’s done, not when even Dean can’t forgive himself, when there are still nights when he wakes up from nightmares filled with screams and blood. All he can do is try to make it up, help people out whenever he can, be a good brother for Sam and maybe even by doing right by Cas.

And even if that might be a bit selfish, he deserves at least a try at happiness, doesn’t he? (If only for Cas’ sake.)

* * *

 

The transition from fitting Cas into his life as a friend to something more than a friend is smooth. He makes breakfast on that Sunday, pancakes with fresh blueberries and he takes extra care with Cas’ coffee. They spend the day together, nothing special, just a mixture of reading together and watching a movie, and then that evening they all eat together around the table, Bobby, Jody, Sam and Jess, and it feels more like a family than it has for a long time.

Dean sleeps alone that night, mostly because he held Cas a stern lecture about watching people sleep and since Cas doesn’t need to sleep they ended up with a compromise that leaves everyone unsatisfied. Dean keeps missing Cas’ warmth and Cas spends the whole night thinking about Dean. Okay, granted the latter is nothing out of the regular occurrences of every night, but still, he could share a bed with Dean while thinking about him. So they settle on another compromise, Cas gets to spend the night in Dean’s bed, but only if he puts his system into energy saving mode, getting as close as possible to sleep, while still being more or less receptive.

On Monday it’s back to work and Cas insists on keeping him company, albeit he has to promise Bobby not to distract anyone from work. Tuesday goes much the same and Dean has to say he really likes the change in his life. But the best part certainly is the additional touching and kissing. Cas has some experience apparently, and he’s eager to apply what he’s learned from Amelia. And Dean is far too eager to assist him in that.

It’s no surprise that Dean sleeps much better that night, and he doesn’t wake up to the creepy sensation of Cas watching him, because Cas’ eyes are closed, but he ‘wakes up’ the moment Dean starts to move.

Tuesday evening finds them, for once, not on the couch. Sam is at Jess’ and Dean has decided to take Cas along to the annual car race held by the city of Sioux Falls. Bobby and Dean usually go together every year, sometimes accompanied by Sam, bickering about the cars and who’s most likely to win. Last year Dean even participated but this year he didn’t have the time for all the necessary preparations.

Jody has to attend because she’s the sheriff and on duty, but she promised to check in with Bobby every now and then. Not that the boys can’t entertain themselves with all the cars around.

As soon as they arrive, in Dean’s car, Bobby gets dragged away to check over a car by one of his friends and Dean has time to show Cas the area. There are stalls where food and snacks are sold, even a few with merchandise and games and the area in between is already packed with people. The race track is sectioned off and guarded by a few bored looking cops and Jody, but the cars are parked outside for public access.

Cas looks around with wide eyes, excited but also a bit intimidated by the sheer mass of people. He’s completely out of place again with his attire and gathers more than one confused glance, but neither of them cares. He’s not the only one though, Dean also draws a bit of attention with the faded bruise on his cheek bone, but he’s kind of used to that, so he ignores it.

“Dean, I’d like to try a funnel cake.” Cas looks at him hopefully and Dean hides a smile. They haven’t touched since getting out of the car, the whole thing still too new for Dean but he slowly eases into his new role, and buying Cas a snack is certainly a perk. He gets two funnel cakes, one with chocolate sauce and one with a hellishly sweet strawberry concoction that he gratefully trades off to Cas.

Only afterwards does he realize that they could have shared one (oh, the opportunities), but looking at Cas’ face while he tentatively tries his cake and how his eyes light up at the taste, is definitely worth it.

“They’re delicious.”

“You never had funnel cake?”

“No, I never had the occasion.”

“Occasion? Have you ever been on a fair?” Granted, this is not a fair, but it comes close.

“No.”

“Well I haven’t been either, not to a real fair at least. This is the closest I’ve ever come to one. We never had the time, we kept moving around too much.” Dean remembers how there was this one fair in the city they were staying and how he begged his Dad to let him and Sam go. But John forbade it, insisting on it being a ‘mindless distraction’ and Dean can still feel the sting of his father’s hand on his cheek when he dared to backtalk. They left the city the next morning and ever since then John had made sure that there was never a fair or a circus or any of the sorts in the area they were staying in.

And of course he had left it to Dean to explain Sam why they never got to go out on such events like all his classmates.

“We should go to one some time, there must be one around this area.” Cas suggests, a drop of strawberry sauce on his lips as he licks his fingers clean from the sugar. That image does absolutely nothing to improve Dean’s self control, if anything, it shatters it. And Cas isn’t even doing it on purpose.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Dean says and his voice is much hoarser than it should be. He can’t help it, the speck of red dances on Cas’ lip every time he speaks, it’s impossible to resist it. Cas’ eyes widen in surprise when Dean’s finger brushes over his lips, and he watches entranced as Dean raises the digit to his mouth and licks up the dot of red.

Before he can even properly gauge the reaction he inflicted, Cas has pulled him in into a kiss, rough and insistent as he presses up against Dean. It’s cliché, certainly, but Dean feels like time has stopped for a moment. All he can think of, all he can focus on is the wet slide of Cas’ tongue against his lips and it takes him far too long to react accordingly and open up to him. Cas tastes like strawberry and too much sugar, mixed with the chocolate taste from his own funnel cake but at the same time he tastes like Cas, like air heavy with rain, like that one flavor he can’t name, but is so uniquely Cas.

The kiss ends far too soon when Cas breaks away to give him room for breathing. Dean realizes that they’re standing in the middle of the street, surrounded by countless people milling about, and they get more than a few weird looks, but that could be attributed to Cas basically kissing his brains out in public. Really, that shouldn’t make him this happy.

He doesn’t hesitate after that to take Cas’ hand and judging by the happy expression, he really doesn’t mind. Dean finishes his funnel cake and buys them a stick with cotton candy to share afterwards. Cas is delighted by it and Dean spends his time watching Cas eating instead of eating himself.

“The races start in about half an hour, mind checking out the cars before?” Dean asks as Cas is busy cleaning his sticky fingers with a napkin. Thank the Gods of rock music that he doesn’t use his tongue this time, Dean isn’t sure if he can withstand any more temptation. Not after _that_ kiss.

He’s been on some sort of edge ever since that day Cas came to him in the middle of the night. Dean wants to take it slow, nothing has changed about that, but that doesn’t help that he easily gets horny, especially when Cas seemingly has no idea about the effect his actions have on Dean. It’s even worse now that he’s allowed to touch Cas, because now he has to put more effort into holding himself back.

There are small indulgences every now and then, and Cas isn’t exactly shy either, but there’s a difference between a kiss or a brush of knuckles against skin and pushing Cas’ down face first and fuck him raw. Sometimes Dean wonders if there even is an in between or if all he’s capable of doing is either shy and innocent or downright raunchy. And in between all this he wonders what it is that Cas wants.

“Of course.” Cas beams up at him, generally content with the situation and Dean squeezes his hand without even thinking. It comes almost naturally to Dean. And Cas squeezes right back, it’s exciting and assuring and for a moment feels like he could embrace the whole world.

So even Dean Winchester has a cheesy moment every now and then.

Dean likes this part of the race best, when he can get close to the cars and check them out. People know him, so they allow him to look under the hood and/or ask detailed questions and sometimes someone even asks for his advice. He’s not as renowned as Bobby though, but he doesn’t mind.

“Hey Winchester, heard you were too chicken to face me this year.” Dean turns towards the voice, a grin spreading on his face.

“I wanted to give you a chance for once Isaac.” Dean shoots back, Isaac grins and reaches out his hand.

“Haven’t seen you in a while. Don’t tell me you’re scared of me.”

“Been busy. Isaac, this is Cas” Isaac and Cas shake hands, Isaac throwing Dean a knowing glance while Cas just does his Cas-thing.

“Busy, huh?” Isaac winks at him as he throws Cas another glance and Dean can’t decide if he should laugh or be mortified. He settles on neither and instead asks:

“So you’re still driving that tin box of yours?”

“Says the one who drives a grandmother.”

“Yeah yeah, I can hear the envy talking.”

“I don’t understand, how can you drive a grandmother?” Cas interrupts and Dean has to smile involuntarily at the serious expression on his face, as he tries to puzzle out the specifics of driving elderly people. Isaac just looks at Cas, then at Dean and then at Cas again.

“I think I need a beer.” He comments dryly but doesn’t make a move to get one. They wouldn’t let him race if he had so much as a fraction of alcohol in his blood. It’s hard to miss all the ‘Be responsible’ posters that hang around everywhere. Jody must have had a fucking field day hanging them all, knowing that probably half of the town ignore them anyway.

“Cas don’t mind him, that’s just friendly banter among car fanatics.” Dean explains, nodding at Isaac to indicate that they’re continuing with their tour.

“I’ll come by to get my car checked in a few days, so clean out the front lawn.” Isaac calls after him and Dean just waves a hand in the air.

His hand finds its way back into Cas’ almost on its own accord and he has to admit that it feels quite at home there. He greets a few more acquaintances, checks a car here and there and while he’s not busy doing that, he explains to Cas the inner workings of a finely tuned car race. Or something like that.

“Apparently this has started out as some sort of underground drag race, but then the city caught wind of it and instead of shutting it down they took over.  Well the mafia wasn’t too thrilled about that I’ve heard, but the general public loved the idea. There’s still some illegal betting going on and of course illegal tuning, but it’s mostly clean now.”

Thankfully this had been too far away from Alastair’s turf or else he would have tried to get his hands on it.

“You participated last year?” Cas asks and smiles at him. Dean isn’t exactly sure if Cas is really interested or just polite, but either way, he’s smiling and a warm feeling settles in his stomach.

“Yeah, but I only made third place. The competition is pretty tough and baby’s not in her best years anymore.” Not that it’s easy to admit that.

“That’s quite impressive.” Cas takes a sweeping look over the amassed cars before he returns to watching Dean.  “Is it dangerous?”

Dean shrugs. “It is, like every drive with a car, but there are precautions and we have a team of paramedics at the ready in case of emergency. And ever since the city took over, the drivers are required to absolve a safety drive test, you know emergency breaks and so on. Still, accidents happen.”

Cas hums and steps closer, wrapping his arm around Dean’s and resting his head on Dean’s shoulder. “I’m glad you don’t risk your life like that.”

“’That so?” Dean asks, voice husky, Cas’ declaration has taken him by surprise and the feeling of fluttering butterflies in his stomach intensifies. He should probably say more, but the words stay stuck in his throat.

“Yes.” Cas’ voice is equally hoarse and he keeps staring at Dean as if he is the holy grail. “I wouldn’t like you getting hurt.” Cas confesses and Dean’s heart tries to relocate into his throat. He didn’t expect the warmth that spreads throughout his body, he didn’t expect Cas to have this effect on him.

He didn’t expect a lot of things, and it still scares him a hell of a lot more than he would like, but at the same time it makes him feel warm and secure and he doesn’t want to let go of that feeling ever. But what stuns him even more, is the sincerity with which Cas speaks. there is no doubt no hesitation, that Dean is, in fact, this important to Cas.

He’s not used to this, to how Cas puts so much trust into him, not used to someone caring about his wellbeing outside of family. But then again Cas is pretty much a member of his family by now, so maybe it’s not that hard to let it happen.

There’s nothing he can say to that, he’s too stunned by the revelation, that all he can do is pull Cas in for a long deep kiss. It leaves him breathless and he is loath to pull away, he’d much rather keep his forehead press to Cas’ and stay there as long as it takes for him to drown in the deep blue of Cas’ eyes.

Really, Dean should be worried, he’s starting to get cheesier with every moment he spends in Cas’ company. But he can’t even remember why that should be a bad thing.

They have to separate eventually though, the first race is about to start and they need to clear the area. But Cas doesn’t let go of his arm and so it’s alright that they have to move, as long as they stay close together. Dean leads Cas to a nice spot at the rails, close to the start and finish lines as the first two cars roll up.

Bobby shows up just in time for the mayor, accompanied by Jody, to announce the rules and all the other nonsense that needs to be said on such occasions (safety blabla, donations blabla, everyone have save fun and so on). Jody has the honor of starting the first race with a shot into the air, a fact she clearly doesn’t approve of, even if it's just a blank,but the mayor nudges her forward, beaming brightly as he announces the procedure.

“My bet is on Dave.” Dean says idly, leaning more against Cas than strictly necessary but fuck him if he cares about that now.

“Doubt so, got a look at his engine, it’s a lightweight, no real power behind it. Mike’s car is overall slower but he’ll make good time on the initial acceleration.” 

“Have they shortened the track again?”

“Yes, keep telling them that this won’t do, but some environmental activists complained about the disturbance to the lake so they cut that section short. Won’t be long until they’re racing in a circle.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Tell me about it.”

The mayor finally clears the area, causing a collective sigh of relief. He’s a good guy, the mayor, but he has a knack for over long speeches and grand gestures. Jody steps in between the two cars and a cheer goes up in the crowd. Cas’ hand tightens on Dean’s arm as Jody lifts her gun, one finger stuck in her ear ash she counts down from three.

The sound of the gunshot gets drowned out by roaring motors and a flag of dust rises behind the vehicles as they speed past them. Bobby was right; Mike builds up an impressive head start right from the beginning as Dave seems to struggle to get into gear. They’re out of sight soon and the people look up to the grand monitors that hang from the center tribune where all the important people sit, council members, the mayor after he’s clambered up the steps and a few other snobs that don’t like to mingle with the masses.

Dean can’t really focus on the race, not with Cas standing so close, not with Cas’ breath ghosting over his neck, not when he can feel the faint burn of Cas’ warmth underneath his hands. Car races always make his blood sing in his veins, even when he’s not participating, and now that fire has another fuel, the burn slowly spreading out from under his skin. He wants to drag Cas over to his Impala, push him up against the metal frame and kiss him until his face is flushed red. He wants to rip off his clothes and take him right there, spread out on the hood of his car, the growling of car motors in the background.

Loud cheering pulls him out of his day dream as the cars near the finish lines. Cas is watching intensely and therefore hasn’t noticed Dean’s short journey into his dirty fantasy. As predicted by Bobby, Mike drives over the line first, but it’s a close call and there are already discussions springing up around them about how close.

Jody comes over around the third race, already looking exhausted. Bobby has produced a few bottles of beer from somewhere and offers her one, and even though she is on duty she takes one with an exasperated sigh.

“Some kids tried to sneak into the mechanic tent and then I had to listen to their parent’s ranting about how I should loosen up a bit, they’re just kids and nothing got broken, yadda, yadda.” Jody explains after she has taken her first sip.

“I really don’t want to know why they take their kids to this event, but the mayor refuses to put an age restriction on it. Too bad I didn’t have an alcohol test on me, that sure would have been interesting.”

“How old were they?”

She snorts. “Hard to say with these teenagers nowadays. I would have guessed around fourteen, but I could be wrong. At least the adults are behaving.” There’s the sound of glass smashing from somewhere behind them and then a few angry shouts. “Well most of them.” Jody groans and hands over her beer to Bobby. “I’ll better check this out. See you later.” With that she presses a quick kiss to Bobby’s cheek and heads off into the direction of the noise.

Dean quickly leans over and mimics her by pecking Cas on the lips, earning a surprised yelp then a hand to his collar that pulls him in for another, longer kiss. The effect is immediate, heat surges through Dean’s body and the urge to push his hands over Cas’ clothes grows overwhelming. But before he can do anything, he is interrupted by another round of cheers and then Cas’ attention is on the returning cars again.

The cars clear the track and a man, the mayor’s personal assistant, a bot, steps forward to announce a break for everyone to get refreshments. Dean turns to Cas and pulls him into his arms. It might be a test for his self control, but he wants to touch Cas now, and since he can’t rip his clothes off, this will have to do. It’s the first time they’ve hugged like that, and Dean decides that he really likes it. Cas is close, his breath tickling against Dean’s neck as he tugs him in against his shoulder.

There are too many layers of clothing underneath his fingers for his liking, so he sneaks his hand under the jacket, dragging over the smooth fabric of Cas’ dress shirt. Cas trembles under his hands and for a short moment Dean is afraid he overstepped some line but then he hears the slight moan, accompanied by a rush of breath and he relaxes.

“You feel good.” Cas whispers and Dean can feel the curve of his smile against his neck. Bobby throws them one look and leaves to fetch another round of beer, but even though he’s frowning, Dean can see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He won’t say anything, but Dean knows that Bobby is secretly pleased.

And that just hits Dean like a sledge hammer. With all his worrying he never thought about Bobby’s reaction. He knew Sam would accept him, because Sam is his brother and he has made clear on numerous occasions that he will accept Dean, no matter what (even though he’ll probably over think that, should he ever learn of some of the more questionable choices Dean has made), but he never bothered to wonder about Bobby. He had wondered sometimes, what society would think of his decision and then quickly decided that he doesn’t give a crap, and maybe he had even worried what Bobby would say in some far off corner of his mind, but then Cas confessed his feelings and every concern and worry had been flushed away by the wave of happiness.

But Bobby accepts him, just like that, and Dean realizes with a start that John would have never approved of that. Not just because a bot killed Mary, but also because bots are _machines_ , and maybe even because Cas is a male. The realization almost brings tears to his eyes, he’s such a disappointment to his father, but he can’t even bring himself to care about that. John has always made it clear that the least Dean could do was living up to his father’s expectations, and he had failed that more than once, and Dean just can’t beat himself up over that anymore. It’s so tiresome to remind himself that he’s a failure, because with John dead, there’s no one else to do it and really it has only been Dean pushing himself down, for the last few years. And it must be enough some time.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asks, voice thick with worry, and Dean realizes he’s been shaking, hands clasping into the fabric of Cas’ coat. He can see his reflection (barely) in Cas’ eyes as he looks down and he tries to force a smile, but it feels shaky at best.

“I’m fine now.” He says softly. Cas looks at him for a moment but then decides that Dean is honest and leans back against his shoulder. Dean feels warm all around and he knows that this feeling is most definitely more than just ‘like’, but he isn’t sure and he doesn’t want to scare Cas away by feeling too much too early and maybe he’s really just overreacting because he made his first step away from his father’s shadow. Either way, he doesn’t say anything and just holds on to Cas’ warm body in his arms.

The moment gets interrupted when the announcer-bot returns and declares the break to be over. Dean doesn’t want to let go, but peoples are pushing past them to see the tracks and he’s interested in anyone other than Cas witnessing his moment of weakness. Even though it doesn’t feel like weakness at all.

They stay until the last race, arm in arm, Bobby and Dean discussing possible outcomes and generally having a good time. When they return to where the Impala is parked Dean thinks he spied Tom in the crowd, but then someone passes in front of him and the man is gone when the sight is clear again, making Dean wonder if he even was there. He soon forgets about the incident as he snuggles into Cas’ arms in the backseat as Jody insisted on driving ‘their drunk asses home’. She’ll be staying over, so it wouldn’t be much of a problem.

Dean doesn’t really care; he’s in Cas’ arms and that is all that matters.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to throw out a quick thanks to all you lovely fans out there, thanks ;)

The next morning Dean wakes to the blaring of his alarm (as usual), but he's more reluctant to get up than usual. Cas has somehow developed the behavioral pattern of an octopus sometime during the night and is now wrapped around him. Since he doesn't own any sleeping clothes and Dean refused to let him sleep in his suit, he's wearing only boxers and one of Dean's shirts. The sight is more than a bit distracting and Dean has a hard time unwrapping from Cas' grip, both because he doesn't want to let ago and because Cas apparently doesn't want to let go. He still hasn't figured out how the hell he's even doing it, he's not supposed to move much while in energy saving mode, but Dean wouldn't put it past him to wake up, wrap himself around Dean and go back to 'sleep'.

At least he's pliant and Dean can push him off with a bit of effort (extra stress on the effort). He would much rather stay and do… other things, but he has work to do and as clingy and cuddly as Cas is in bed, they haven't done anything further yet than intense kissing and Dean doesn't want to unlock that achievement with a morning quickie.

Shitty gaming reference? Yep, it's definitely time for Dean to get up and get his brain into gear, preferably with coffee. Cas mumbles something incoherently and rolls over the space Dean occupied moments before, spreading his limbs out over the whole bed. Dean shakes his head, maybe there _is_ a sleep mode or something, because that is certainly not the same behavior he had while his batteries were drained.

He leans over and presses a kiss to Cas' temple. "I'll see you at lunch." He whispers into his ear, but Cas pulls him down into another kiss before he can fully retreat. Cas flops down on the bed again and looks for all the world like he is asleep, but Dean is not so sure anymore, Cas might just have discovered the perks of lazing around in bed.

Sam is already up and rummages through the kitchen cabinet in search of breakfast most likely. Jody is busy cooking coffee, already wearing her gear and Bobby is knocked out on the kitchen table.

"Morning." Dean yawns once, and then goes to help his brother with.

Bobby just grunts, causing Jody to chuckle fondly. "Morning Dean, Cas still in bed?"

"Yeah, you could say that. If I didn't know it better I would say he's really sleeping." Dean pulls out the frying pan while Sam roots through the fridge for bacon and eggs.

"So, wasn't he sleeping?" Jody asks as she pours four cups of coffee.

"Well he's a bot, he can't sleep, can he?"

"Well our police bots don't sleep, but they're not supposed to be human like. I don't know about soulbots though."

"Soulbots have a sleep functions, it's a form of energy saving mode that includes typical human sleeping patterns." Sam explains as he mixes together eggs and milk, adding a generous amount of seasoning.

"What? Why didn't I know that?"

"You never asked. Anyway Cas asked me to check his functions, he wasn't sure if it would still work." Sam shrugs and pours the mixture into the heated pan. "By the way, I talked to him about the memory error. I can't say anything for sure without checking his system specifics, but from what he's told me; I'm pretty sure he's right. We should be able to fix it if we extract the data and sort through it manually. It's risky, but I can ask Jess to assist."

"I'll ask Cas later." Dean had been pretty confident that they would be able to fix it, but there had been doubts. But he trusts Sam, and when Sam says it's going to be alright, it's going to be alright.

"You should however be aware that this could change him." Sam cautions, voice serious and Dean really should have expected something like that. "Like people who have amnesia and develop a new personality after the memory loss, and when they remember their old life, they revert back."

"Yeah but we already know how he was before the memory loss, and how the defect of his memory core tampered with his emotions." Dean points out as he takes four plates from the cabinet. Jody and Bobby have been listening in to the conversation, but so far not contributed to it.

Sam shrugs and divides the scrambled eggs and the bacon on the plates. "You don't know what happened after that. I'm just saying there's a possibility."

"You don't really think that Dean would let that stop him?" Bobby comments dryly, coffee mug already empty.

"I guess not." Sam grins and shrugs again, "I just wanted to point it out."

"Cas will be fine." Dean stabs his eggs with a fork, he doesn't want to think about all the possibilities how this could go wrong, he wants to believe that they'll find a way. It's like he said to Sam, it's what they do, find a way out of every bit of trouble they get in. And even if his personality gets screwed up, he still will be Cas, just different.

Okay, even he knows how dumb that sounds.

"I'm sure he will." Jody pours Bobby another cup as she speaks. "He's a tough guy, I'm sure he'll pull through." Dean looks at her surprised, he's grateful for her words but he didn't know they were so close. "What? I know how to assess people, it's kind of in the job description." Jody shrugs. "He's a fighter, I can see that."

"'sides, you boys have pulled far worse shit than this, and yet here we are." Bobby adds. "If Cas can put up with Dean, a bit of memory damage shouldn't be a problem."

"Thanks Bobby." Dean says dryly, but he can't help the fond smile on his face. It feels good to have the support of his family, and now that he's decided to no longer live under John's shadow, it feels even better. He can't shake the guilt as easily as he'd like to, he's spent too many years berating himself for every single mistake and John's constant disappointment still sits deep, but he can allow himself this short moment of reprieve. And even without John's disapproval, there is enough shit on his ledger to supply him with a lifetime of guilt. He can't easily disregard _that_.

"Okay, it's time for me to go to work." Jody announces and puts down her coffee cup. "Don't do anything illegal while I'm gone." She says dryly as she leans down to give Bobby a kiss. Dean catches Sam's look of slight disgust as Bobby pulls her in for a deeper more tongue-involved kiss. It's not that they're not happy for Bobby and Jody, Dean simply doesn't want to spend more time than necessary (none for that matter) on thinking about Bobby and anything remotely sexual.

Oh and here it is, the undoubtedly traumatizing mental image.

"I'll go open the shop." Dean quickly puts his cup and plate away before he flees the room. He certainly didn't need _that_ to wake up.

* * *

Dean lies under a car and is in the middle of fixing the electrolyte line when someone knocks against the chassis. He rolls out from under the car and is greeted with a familiar pair of black slack pants.

"I brought you lunch."

"What, it's lunch already?" Dean frowns; he hasn't noticed how late it is. "So what did you get me?"

Cas lifts a plate with sandwiches and even from his position on the ground, they look delicious. "I made them myself."

"You made me a sandwich?" Dean pushes himself up and wipes his hands on the dirty rag that's stuffed in his belt. Wasn't there some kind of significance behind making sandwiches?

Cas frowns and checks the plate. "I made you two sandwiches."

Dean huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He doubts this will ever get old.

"What's so funny about sandwiches?"

"Nothing, I'm sure they're delicious. Come on, let's go inside." He leads Cas into the office, where Charlie is lounging on her chair. "Cas made me sandwiches." Dean announces and presents the plate to Charlie.

"What did you do to deserve that Winchester? Get down on him?" She winks at Cas, who just squints at her in confusion.

"I don't understand. He did get down under the car, so am I supposed to give a sandwich to the car?" Dean bites in his sandwich in an attempt to stifle his laughter, but Charlie has no such reservations. She looks at Cas for a moment and then at Dean who's busy with his food and then she bursts out laughing.

"Yes Cas, you should make the car a sandwich." She wheezes once she has calmed down enough to speak.

"Sandwiches are apparently a source of great amusement, why didn't you tell me Dean?" Cas stares at Dean almost accusingly, causing another fit of laughter from Charlie.

"Right Dean, why didn't you tell him?"

Dean just groans and decides that his sandwich is a more amiable companion at the moment. Charlie finally concedes and explains the joke to Cas, which results in more groaning from Dean and a curious-embarrassed look from Cas that somehow ends up being sexy as hell.

Soon after, the lunch break is over and they get shooed back to work by Bobby. Dean goes back to the car he's working on, but he can't really focus on it. He has a hard time forgetting the look Cas gave him when they kissed goodbye. He keeps forgetting that despite his difficulties to grasp concepts like common sense and personal space, he supposedly has some experience with (sexual) relationships. He has never gone into detail about what happened with Amelia, but Dean has always suspected that it wasn't entirely innocent.

And even though Cas didn't know what 'going down on someone' means, he seemed clearly aware what 'sucking someone off' means - and how it works. Something flutters in his stomach when he thinks back to that look, there was something akin to desire in there, and maybe even a promise.

Maybe it's time to take the next step, but first they're going to solve Cas' memory problem.

* * *

It's four pm when he finishes his work and goes for a quick shower and a change of clothes. He has to drive Cas to his job interview and Bobby has given him off early for that reason. He finds Cas in his room, lying spread out on Dean's bed and reading a book. Maybe it's just him but it seems to Dean that Cas' behavior has become increasingly more human ever since they're together.

"You ready?" He asks and Cas looks up at him, hair messier than usual and for some unknown reason his cheeks are tinted pink. The sight is nothing short of hot and if they hadn't been on a schedule Dean would have done some definitely wretched things to him. Instead he tugs a finger under Cas' collar and pulls him up into a deep kiss, that probably includes more tongue than necessary but Cas doesn't complain so that's that.

Cas is breathless once they break apart, the flush deepened and he looks up at Dean from under half closed lids. "I read up on behavioral advice for job interviews and I have come to the conclusion that I am already accordingly attired, so yes I suppose I am ready."

Dean chuckles against Cas' lips as he presses another kiss there. "Remember you're applying for a job as a florist, not a tax accountant."

"I don't know what the appropriate attire for an interview with a florist is."

"You'll be fine Cas, don't worry. Just be yourself."

Besides, Dean has seen pictures from the florist's website, he seems to be a pretty chill guy, more interested in plants than what his employees look like. Or at least that's Dean's impression.

"I'm not sure, do plants require empathy?"

"Not that I'm aware of, why?" It's not always easy to hold pace with how quickly Cas jumps from one thought to another.

"It was advised to go through your strengths and weaknesses, and I came to the conclusion that I lack empathy. If plants need to be comforted, I don't think I'm the right one for the job."

"Cas," Dean sighs and scrubs a hand over the back of his neck. He clearly isn't the right one to give people job advice. "I doubt that your lack of empathy will be a problem, and even at the slight chance that it is, we can always find another job for you. Besides, job interviews are there to find that out. You can't lose, only make some new experiences."

Cas nods and Dean doesn't need to look to know that he's either frowning or squinting, probably both. "Thank you Dean." His voice is sincere and Dean can feel a small smile tug at his lips.

"Anytime Cas."

They reach the address of the florist's shop, a tiny building wedged in between a tailor and a pawn shop. The windows are filled with plants and flowers and the letters above the door are bright and colorful, spelling out 'Garden Eden'. The name's cheesy, but who cares. Dean parks on the opposite side of the street, checking his watch before he turns to Cas. "I'll wait in the car."

Cas looks a bit terrified, his eyes are wide and his hands clench around the seat belt. Dean sighs and reaches out to grab Cas' hand. He doesn't have to ask if Cas is nervous, it's plain obvious that he is. "How about I come in with you?" Dean suggests, squeezing Cas' hand in his. "You'll have to go through the interview alone, but I'll be close in any case." Not that he's expecting anything bad to happen, but if Cas needs emotional support, he'll get it.

"Come on." He prompts gently, leaning over to undo Cas' seat belt and press a reassuring kiss to Cas' temple. "Just give it your best, and if it doesn't work out, then so what? We'll just find another job. And remember, if you feel like this isn't the right job for you, then say so, it's okay." Somewhere in the farthest corners of his mind Dean feels remorse, that John never found words of courage for him like that. It's almost bitter to think that Dean (failing, useless Dean) would make a better Dad than John had ever been.

This time, the guilt about thinking badly of his father, is hardly noticeable.

The shop is filled up to the brim with plants, there's a lot of green and a few color dots where the flowers are stored. There's a shelf on one side with various decoration items and one entire shelf full of honey jars. The labels are self made and Dean assumes that this is the self made honey advertized on the shop's website. A couple stands at the counter talking to the owner, an elderly man with wrinkles around his eyes and a warm smile on his lips.

That must be Joshua then.

Cas and Dean wait politely in the background while Joshua finishes with his customers. Cas takes in the interior with wide eyes, but this time it's because of excitement and not nervousness. He's especially entranced by the shelf of honey, looking at each jar with curious intent, examining the labels on which Dean can see tiny pictures of different flowers and small sections of text, probably describing the contents.

"I see you like my honey collection." Joshua walks over to them, still smiling,, hand stretched out in greeting. "My name's Joshua. You must be Castiel, yes?" Cas looks from the outstretched hand to Dean as if looking for guidance and Dean has to mimic a handshake before he gets what's expected of him. If Joshua is perplexed by it, he doesn't show it.

"And you are?" Joshua turns from Cas to Dean, eyes crinkled up from his smile and Dean feels immediately reminded of the grandfather he never had. There's a minute frown though, when Joshua notes the faintly discolored skin on his cheek from the faded bruise, but his expression smoothes back into a smile almost instantly.

"I'm Dean, I am… uh…" Okay good question, what exactly _is_ he? From the way it looks right now, Cas' caretaker probably. But Joshua just smiles at him, understanding twinkling in his eyes.

"It's alright, I understand. You here for moral support?" Dean just shrugs and grins, rubbing a hand over the base of his neck.

"I suppose so."

Joshua turns to look at Cas and smiles at him. "A nice companion you have there." Cas blushes slightly, his eyes trail to Dean and his blush deepens.

"Yes." His voice is raspier than usual and for some reason he can't meet either of their eyes. Joshua just chuckles and waves them over towards the back of the shop.

"Come on you two, how about a nice cup of tea?" Dean is a bit surprised that he is included in the invitation, but so far Joshua has been pretty unconventional so he figures, why not. The back is even more stuffed with plants in pots and flowers in vases and lots of other stuff, but it has a homey feeling to it and Dean instantly likes it in there. There's another door at the end of the room, from which a faint buzzing sound can be heard.

They sit down around a small table that has a half finished floral wreath and a lot of grass stalks on top of it, but Joshua just shoves everything aside to make room for a tea service. He takes a tea pot from its place on a small warmer and pours them each a cup. He then puts a small container with honey on the table. Dean sits down on one of the chairs but Cas is too transfixed with the various knick knacks in the room, looking at the plants, going through the various tools lying scattered around.

"I like your shop." He announces once he has finished his examination and is drawn back by the (admittedly) delicious smell of tea. Dean is more a coffee guy, but this tea really smells good.

"Thank you." Joshua says warmly as he raises his cup to take a sip. "I've spent most of my life in here, but my hands aren't as strong these days, and my eyes grow tired."

Dean takes a careful sip of his tea, there's still steam coming from the pot, and he's not interested in burning his tongue. After deciding that it's still too hot for his taste, he sets the cup down and adds a bit of honey for good measure. Cas on the other hand seems to have no temperature problem, drinking his tea in deliberate sips.

"I grow the leaves myself." Joshua explains as Cas sets his cup down, a small content smile playing on his lips. "And I harvested the honey myself." He points with his head in the direction of the door. "I have my own garden out there, along with a few bee hives."

"Yeah I remember reading that on your home page." Dean nods and takes another sip of his tea. This time it's cooler and he can actually taste it. "That's good." He lets out, more surprised than he probably should be.

"Thank you." Joshua refills his own cup, that Dean didn't even notice he'd drained. "I'm not a fan of business talk, but I suppose there's no way around this." He smiles almost apologetic when he sets his cup down. "Why do you want to work here, Castiel?"

Cas looks up at Dean, the slight look of terror back on his face, but before Dena can do anything, Joshua is talking again. "Don't worry, there are no wrong answers. I figure from your reactions that you already like it here, I just want to hear it from you in your own words." He smiles reassuringly at Cas.

Dean slips a hand under the table to squeeze Cas' leg in reassurance, earning him a grateful smile. "I'm not sure." Cas starts, an almost unnoticeable frown on his face. "I don't really have any experience with working and I don't really have any education, but when I saw your job description online, I felt like this is something I would enjoy." A shy smile tugs at his lips. "And I really like bees."

Dean has to stifle a laugh when he hears Cas' words, combined with the face he's pulling it is almost too much. Cas looks like he has found the ark of the covenant or something. Joshua seems equally surprised but then he chuckles softly, a pleased expression on his face.

"You should be aware though, that my people skills are rusty." Cas obviously doesn't like to talk about it and Dean rubs his leg in a reassuring gesture. This might jeopardize this possibility, but they owe it to Joshua to be honest. "I had a defect with my memory core and ever since then my system has been fallible."

"Nothing bad." Dean quickly amends. "He just is a bit rusty, but he has learned a lot of things."

Joshua frowns and there is a crease of worry on his forehead. "It's nothing serious, I hope." The concern in his voice is genuine and he keeps looking at Cas with a worried expression.

"No, at least we don't think so. So far he's been alright, just a bit out of the loop."

"That's good to hear." The crease lines smooth out and he's smiling again, there even seems to be genuine relief in his eyes. Dean is positively baffled. "You don't have any experience with either bees or flowers, I suppose?"

"No, but I could download the manuals." Cas quickly looks at Dean, almost shyly, as he suggests it.

"That won't be necessary. Such things are best learned directly. I would love to work with you Castiel." Cas' eyes are wide with surprise but then he looks at Dean who squeezes his leg again and his expression breaks out into a wide smile.

"Thank you Joshua." Cas blinks a few times, before looking at Dean again and he almost laughs at the barely contained joy on his face.

"You're really okay with hiring a bot?" Dean asks, causing Joshua to burst out into quiet laughter.

"I don't discriminate, as far as I am concerned, Castiel here is as human as I am. Or would you disagree?" He asks and actually winks at Dean.

Dean grins and shrugs, there is really not much he can add to that. But it feels good that someone else is coming to the same conclusion as he is.

"Anyway, how about we discuss the details of our work arrangements now? I can show you the bees afterwards." Cas' face immediately lights up and he looks so freaking happy that it makes butterflies dance in Dean's belly. Sometimes he thinks, he could really live for these moments, when Cas looks like he's the happiest man on the planet, even more so when he's looking at Dean with that expression.

* * *

Cas is positively beaming on the way to the car, and his smile gets even wider when Dean suggests to buy him a cell phone. "You know in case of an emergency, or when you get off early." Or when you just want to talk. He doesn't say the last part, but part of him wishes he'd had. It's still hard for him to talk about his feelings, about what he wants, and he's not sure if he'll ever be able to overcome that.

"I would like that, yes." Cas smiles at him and Dean just can't help but lean in for a quick kiss.

"I'm proud of you." He whispers against the curve of Cas' lips, before he presses another kiss on it. And before he can stop it, he adds: "You are so damn sexy." His voice is breathless, he doesn't even know why, all he's done is kissing. Cas shudders under his hands, and Dean hadn't even realized that he moved closer until he was touching Cas.

"Dean." Cas breathes, and there is a husk in his voice that sends a shiver down Dean's spine. His fingers trace over the back of Cas' neck, dragging along the collar of that damned trench coat. Half of the time he can't decide if he likes the coat (the fantasies he had with that thing) or if he hates it. It's in the way but at the same time Cas looks so incredibly hot in it.

They're still parked across from Joshua's shop, but Dean can't really say he cares right now. Cas lets out a low growl from the back of his throat and Dean's grasp tightens. The sounds Cas is already making spark his imagination about what he might sound like when sprawled out under him.

"The things you do to me." He presses a kiss to the side of Cas' lips, breathing in the faint scent that sticks to his skin, so uniquely Cas, faint and yet intoxicating. It takes all his willpower to pull away. There's a time and a place for this, and the Impala parked in front of a flower shop is neither.

Cas' fingers cling to him, his skin is flushed and his eyes are half closed, but the most alluring thing is the tremble of his half open lips. They're pink and plush and Dean would have never thought he could be this attracted to a pair of lips (And to the body that is attached to it).

"Come on Cas. There's a cell phone that needs to be bought somewhere." He gently eases Cas' hands open and slides away from him, back behind the wheel.

"Won't you finish what you started?" Cas asks with a growl to his voice, looking at Dean with an expression that leaves him breathless. It's everything he can do not to move back into the space between Cas' arms, instead he grips the steering wheel and thinks something unsexy. Even though his body is pretty much demanding attention, Dean is pretty sure he doesn't want to do this in his car. Don't get him wrong, car sex is awesome, but it's also cramped and awkward, and certainly not the right place for this.

"Not here." He promises, licking his lips subconsciously as he sees the heated look in Cas' eyes.

Dean doesn't exactly have the cash to afford a new cell phone, not yet at least, but he figures that with his new job and maybe a lease, and since Cas insists on contributing his share (once he gets his first paycheck), it shouldn't be so bad. Despite their earlier urgency to get on as quickly as possible, Cas spends quite a lot of time looking at the various offered models. Dean can't really complain because he gets to hold Cas' hand throughout the whole time.

Cas finally decides on a model that he likes and that is not too expensive, and after they've sufficiently listened to one of the vendors prattle on and on about contracts, they're finally able to leave the store. Substantially poorer but one cell phone and in extension, one extra happy Cas richer.

They way back is spent with Dean's music blaring from the speakers and Cas fiddling with his new phone, that, thank goodness for advanced sciences, is solar fueled, thus doesn't need to be plugged in first. Dean supposes he will have to look it over later, and check his settings, because he's not quite sure if Cas got it right the first time. Especially not when he asks the mechanical voice from the voice mail recording why he's supposed to say his name.

As much as Dean would like to drag Cas right into bed with him, his rational mind tells him that he needs to eat something first, especially when he plans on engaging in some rather exerting activities later on.

Jess' car parks in the driveway Dean pulls up his baby next to her. Cas seems to have figured out his new phone and puts it into his pocket, before he climbs out of the car to follow Dean inside. As expected, Jess is there in the kitchen with Sam, helping him with cooking and Bobby sits in his usual armchair, filing through a stack of ancient looking books.

"You're right in time for dinner." Jess smiles when she sees them enter, Sam just randomly waves a hand in the air without looking, too fixed on the pot he's stirring in. "How was the interview?"

"Pretty good, Cas got the job."

"Joshua was very friendly." Cas smiles and goes to help Jess with the plates.

"So what's for dinner?"

"Spaghetti with meatballs." Sam pulls the pot from the stove and finally looks up to acknowledge his brother and Cas. "Congratulations Cas."

"Thank you Sam."

Dean goes to fetch another chair, since they're going to eat around the kitchen table, while Jess and Cas put on the plates and silverware. Sam puts the pot in the middle and Bobby abandons his reading in favor of pulling beer out of the fridge. It's as much of a family dinner Dean can hope for, only Jody's missing, but it's close and that's enough. Cas' knee keeps brushing against his', or maybe it's the other way around, but Cas is giving him heated glances and Dean might or might not suffer from a boner almost half through dinner.

They finish dinner quickly and after going through the necessary routine of cleaning up and small talk, Dean excuses himself with the reason that he's tired, and no one gives it a second thought when Cas follows behind.

It's awkward to say the least. Dean has experience with bringing one night stands to sleazy motel rooms, never bothering to know more than their names, getting right down to business the moment the door closed. The mood from earlier in the car is gone, and Dean finds himself fidgeting with the hem of his shirt once they're inside his room. He feels like a teenager all over again.

"I'll go brush my teeth." That's probably a good thing anyway, good old routine and all. He spends more time than necessary in the bathroom, brushing each tooth with more care than usual, and all that just because he doesn't know what to say. Cas is not just some fling, some mindless fuck he'll regret the moment he wakes up, he's… well, he's Cas.

Dean gives himself a look over in the mirror, running a hand through his hair until it looks vaguely satisfying. There's nothing to be done about his clothes though, he didn't bring any change with him, so he'll have to do with what he's already wearing. Not that Cas would even care what he's wearing. He grimaces at his mirror image, he's over thinking, and that is never a good thing.

Cas is sitting on the edge of the bed, hands folded in his lap, waiting patiently for Dean to return. It's a somewhat ridiculous sight, Cas in his full outfit, coat still on, sitting on Dean's bed, ready for whatever it is they'll get up to. He looks up at Dean, when he enters the room and somehow Dean feels instantly calm.

He sits down besides Cas, close enough to feel the closeness, but not close enough to touch. It's comfortable and for a moment Dean allows himself to just breathe in Cas' presence. All his worries seem so dumb right now.

"Is this really what you want?" Dean asks, fingers twitching as he contemplates resting his hand on Cas' thigh.

"What do you mean with 'this'?"

Dean makes a vague hand gesture, pointing at him and the room in general. "You know, this, me." _Do you really want me?_

"Yes Dean, I want this." There's not a single hint of doubt in his voice. He reaches over to take Dean's hand in his, smiling softly at him. "I wouldn't be here otherwise."

"That's good." It really is and it makes Dean feel warm and fuzzy all over. "You know you can talk to me, right? About the things you want and don't want, about what you think." He'll ignore for now (and probably ever) what a cheesy line that is.

"I want to kiss you Dean. May I kiss you?"

Dean's chuckle is swallowed by the brush of Cas' lips. His fingers tighten their hold on Cas' and he scoots that extra inch closer that has their bodies press together. Cas' other hand finds its way to the small of his back, urging him closer, and Dean shifts so that he turns to face Cas. He trails a hand down Cas' leg and pulls him up and onto his lap, all without breaking the kiss.

Cas moans softly against his lips and Dean presses his tongue against the seam, prompting Cas to open up and let him in. Dean has still the light taste of mint in his mouth from the toothpaste, but it's soon chased away by the curl of Cas' tongue.

There's a fire under his skin that is fueled by every little press of Cas' fingers against his back, by the swirl of his tongue against his own, by the sharp puffs of breath that he can't distinguish as his or Cas'. The heat coils through his body, setting of a tingle that can only be soothed when Cas touches his skin, and he's in a sudden frenzy to get Cas' coat off, to get closer to the skin underneath.

He's hungry like he hasn't been hungry for a long time, his heart is drumming in his chest and he can't get enough of the taste of Cas' on his lips. There are so many sensations at once, and Dean doesn't know on which to focus, so he just allows himself to get lost in the flow. Hands tug at his shirt and then there's the feeling of Cas' hand against his skin and he breathes out a low moan that gets caught in between Cas' lips.

"Are you sure?" He whispers against the stubble on Cas' jaw, pulling away slightly to push off the coat completely, but he pauses halfway through the motion to await the answer. Cas seems ready, but Dean wants to, needs to hear it to continue.

"Absolutely."

That is all Dean needs to hear. He pulls off the coat, dropping it to the floor unceremoniously and drags his hands over the front of Cas' shirt. The jacket soon follows suit and Dean hooks his fingers under Cas' tie. Cas' eyes are blown, his breathing ragged and to Dean he looks downright delectable.

Cas drags his nails over the plane of Dean's back, a hungry glint in his eyes. Dean's hold tightens around the tie and Cas' eyes flutter closed as he sucks in a shaky breath. "You like that?" Dean growls against his lips, and Cas shudders again. Dean twists his fingers, tightening the chokehold even more and the sound that punches out of Cas' chest goes straight down to his cock.

"Didn't think you were this kinky." He drags a finger down over Cas' Adam's apple, noting offhandedly how lifelike it feels. Cas shudders, breath coming out in short puffs, hands digging into Dean's hips as he tries to hold on.

"Dean…" Cas' voice is a broken whisper, lips trembling and Dean immediately lets go of the tie.

"Cas, you alright?" Dean cups Cas' jaw in his hand, rubbing a thumb over his cheek. He's afraid he's gone too far, he should have known better to do something like this right at the first time. "I'm so sorry Cas."

"No Dean. It's alright, I just…" Cas' eyes are wide, panicked almost, but he leans into Dean's touch. "It just feels weird."

"What does feel weird? When I pull your tie?"

"It feels good, I think." Cas frowns, as he reaches up with his own hand to tug at his tie. "I just feel like there's something wrong, but I can't pinpoint what. I feel like I should run away but I don't know why." He looks at Dean as if he could give him all the answers, there's so much trust in his eyes it makes Dean's heart clench with emotion.

"Maybe," Dean almost chokes on his words, because the implications are there, and he doesn't want to think about it, he doesn't want to think that something like this could have happened to Cas. "something happened to you, something involving your throat. Maybe your body remembers and tries to warn you." He feels the sting of tears in his eyes, he's angry and terrified at the same time and he can't even begin to imagine what Cas must be feeling. "I'm sorry."

"Dean." Cas hand comes up to rest on Dean's, squeezing gently. "It's not your fault." Only when Cas' thumb brushes over Dean's cheek does he realize that he's been crying. He can't help it, his mind just went into overdrive, imagining all the things that could have caused this. The possibilities leave him nauseous.

"I'm fine, just confused. I don't know what happened." Cas reassures him and leans forward to press a gentle kiss on Dean's cheek.

"Okay." His voice sounds hoarse, but he's in control again. He's certainly not helping by losing his shit at every sign of trouble. "I want you to know that I talked to Sam and he told me that he thinks you can fix your memory problem. It might help you remember but it might be something you don't want to remember."

"I know, I thought of that too. I'm not sure, yet."

"That's okay, take your time. Just make sure it's what you want. I'll be behind whatever decision you make."

"Thank you Dean."

"Anytime Cas. What do you want to do now? It's up to you, okay?"

Cas smiles and pulls him in a hug. "Can you just hold me, please?"

"Everything you want." Dean pulls down his shirt that has ridden up from Cas' ministrations, but shies away from undoing Cas' tie. "Should I help you with your shoes?" He asks and at Cas' nod he leans down to pull them off. They lay back on the bed together, Cas' head tucked under Dean's chin and Dean quietly hums 'Hey Jude' under his breath. His mother used to sing it to him whenever he couldn't sleep (and no matter how many songs he hears, Dean still thinks this one is the best to help someone to sleep), and he feels like Cas could need the reassurance.

"I'm sorry." Cas says after he has finished the song. Dean carefully pushes back to look at Cas.

"For what?"

"You didn't get to…" He doesn't finish but Dean understands anyway.

"Cas," he says softly, resting a hand on the other's cheek. "Don't ever think that sex is the only reason I'm doing this. You're important to me Cas, and it's fine when we take it slow." And really, Cas' smile is the only gratification he needs.

 


	18. Chapter 18

The rest of the week passes rather uneventfully, aside from maybe a new set of emotional scars on Sam when he accidentally walks in on Dean and Cas making out. They haven’t done anything more than that, Dean is still wary of Cas’ reactions, and Cas still has blackouts sometimes and it just doesn’t feel right to do something while so many questions are still unanswered. At least Dean’s injuries have healed well enough for Cas not worriedly checking on him every two minutes.

Sam has taken Cas to Campus to check him over together with one of his colleagues and the result is more or less assuring, but they still need to wait on some more data before the results are conclusive and Cas decides to wait at least this long before he makes his decision.  And Dean agrees, even though that means they won’t get any more intimate, but Cas’ health is more important than his sexual urges.

It’s not easy to abstain, especially since they both are willing, but after Cas has another flashback when Dean presses him down to kiss him, and starts apologizing profusely and promises to keep it together from now on, Dean decides to tread very careful from now on. Cas’ eyes are unfocused and there’s a panicked look in them and only when Dean puts a bit more distance between them, he snaps out of it.

And still he can’t remember what the cause is.

Dean would have expected it to be harder, sure it is hard, he wants to touch and feel Cas as much as possible, wants to drown in his moans and lose himself in the drag of their heated skin, but at the same time it’s easy to hold on to his control. Because it’s Cas and he doesn’t want to hurt him. It’s hard to be selfish with Cas.

And that scares him, because he’s allowed himself to get close to Cas, closer than he’s ever been to someone in a long time, closer even maybe than he is with Sam. It makes him feel warm and elated at the same time, but his joy can’t quell the uneasy feeling in his stomach. There is something wrong with Cas and as long as they don’t know what it is, Dean can’t help him. And that is a feeling Dean Winchester really doesn’t like. He hasn’t seen or heard anything from Tom since the possibly sighting on Tuesday, so there’s that at least.

He’s a bit nervous to go to work at the Roadhouse on Friday, but when he doesn’t encounter Tom there, he relaxes. Nothing happens on Saturday either and Dean finally allows himself to relax, at least when it comes to that matter.

One of Sam’s uni friends comes over on Sunday to check on Cas and see what he can do to stabilize his system. Jess is also there and together they fiddle with Cas’ control panel, talking animatedly about whatever it is, and the only reason he’s staying in the room is the distressed look on Cas’ face.

“I always wanted to get my hands on one of the new models.” Sam’s friend, Brady, says once he pushes the panel lid shut. “You know, they didn’t just make them look like humans from the outside.” He taps his finger against the skin of Cas’ neck, smoothing over the lines of the control panel. “Half of him is biologically engineered, blood vessels, minus the blood of course and a few organs as far as I know.”

“Really? That’s pretty neat.” Jess almost glows with excitement. “I thought the blueprints were top secret?”

“Well I got my hands on some pre designs as a basis for a project and I figured they didn’t change much.”

“Chuck told me that they’re trying to make completely synthetic humans, but research is going a bit slow.”

“Chuck? You mean Chuck Shurley? The head of development and research?” Brady asks with barely contained excitement. “You know Chuck?”

“Yeah, he’s my new supervisor, after Mr. Roman got his ass kicked.”

“You’re kidding right? You got Chuck motherfucking Shurley to be your supervisor and he’s giving you an inside scoop? Damn it Winchester, did you sell your soul or something?”

“Sam, are you even allowed to share this with us?” Jess asks with concern in her voice. “Won’t you get in trouble?”

Sam just shrugs. “Chuck said he doesn’t care if anyone knows. He said if someone manages to steal the concept and build it, he’s going to buy them a beer, since not even _he_ has figured it out yet. But then his assistant threatened my life if I ever spill company secrets, so I’d probably shouldn’t tell you too much.”

Brady is still muttering under his breath and since they have stopped touching Cas, Dean figures that the examination is done. Cas is resting his head on Dean’s shoulder and is watching the exchange with silent appraising, his lips twitch every time Chuck is mentioned. His hand finds its way into Cas’ hair on his own and he gently cards his fingers through the strands. For all the supposed humanity that has been put into Cas, his hair and nails stay miraculously at the same size. Even his facial hair hasn’t grown an inch in all the time they’ve known each other. At least that saves him a lot of trimming and grooming.

Jess comes to sit with them after the boys have started a heated discussion about something that Dean vaguely recognizes as computer speak, and they spend a few minutes in companionable silence.

“If you want to, I can help in case you decide to clean up your memory core. I’m sure that you’ll need at least medical supervision.” Jess’s smile is warm, but there’s concern in her eyes.

“Thank you Jessica, that is very kind of you. I’ll come back to you when I make my decision.”

“Please, call me Jess. Only my parents call me Jessica when they’re mad at me, and Sam when he’s…” She blushes furiously and looks away, and Dean isn’t sure if he wants to know under which circumstances his brother calls his girlfriend by her full name. He should probably tease him about it anyway. Just out of principle.

Brady leaves not long after that and they spend the rest of the day watching some old movie on the television. Sam explains him the changes they’ve done to Cas in some commercial break and even though Dean doesn’t get most of it, he at least understands that they did some kind of back up of Cas’ system that he can fall back upon in case his memory core gets wonky. Jess is staying overnight and then Bobby comes in, announcing he’s grabbing some beer and for some reason he asks Cas to help him.

Dean has a bad feeling about this, bad as in ‘my parental figure wants to talk with the person who is something akin to my boyfriend’-bad. As in pretty damn screwed. And sure enough, they spend more time in the kitchen than would be needed to fetch a few couples of beer. Maybe now’s the time to get out the whisky. He’ll probably need it.

They return eventually, and Dean searches for any hint of what the conversation could have been about in their faces, but neither gives anything away. Bobby, because he’s a fucking pro and Cas, well Cas just looks like his usual self, so that should at least be something.

Jess is the first one to yawn, and after that it’s really only a question of minutes before all of them (minus Cas) are yawning too and after another ten minutes Dean decides that it’s time for him to go to bed. Tomorrow is Cas first workday and he has promised to drive him there (and pick him up once he’s finished and Dean plans to take him on a date then but shh, that’s still a secret).

Cas has to work only three times a week, and Dean will have to alternate with Sam when it comes to driving him until they find a solution that allows Cas to go on his own. The bus is, unfortunately, not an option, since the next bus stop is too far away from the garage and they would have to drive him there anyway. Thankfully Bobby’s lenient and allows Dean to cut into his hours without much of a fuss.

It has become a normal occurrence that Cas simply follows him, no matter on what point of the evening Dean decides to hit the sac. It’s almost too easy to get used to the company.

“What did Bobby want to talk about?” Dean asks once they are safely out of earshot. He shouldn’t ask, probably, but if they really talked about him, he definitely wants to know.

“He wanted to make sure that I don’t hurt you.” Cas deadpans, not aware of the concept of sugar coating. Dean just groans, he should have known that Bobby wouldn’t just let it slide, but Cas is already continuing. “He said he never saw you this happy and relaxed and that he’s fine with whatever it is that I do that makes you this happy, but I should be aware that you carry a lot of baggage.” Yeah, sounds like Bobby, at least he didn’t pull out the shotgun threat.

“I told him I wasn’t aware that you were carrying baggage, else I would have helped you of course.” Dean side eyes him, before taking a deep breath he then lets out as a sigh.

“What did he say then?”

“He looked at me funny before he said I should talk to you about that. When we were alone.”

“I bet he did.” Dean mutters darkly. He knows that Bobby just wants his best, but right now he wishes he would have kept his cakehole shut.

“What did he mean with baggage Dean? I don’t see you carrying anything.” Dean plops down on the bed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. He knew that this moment would eventually come, but he kind of hoped he could avoid for as long as possible. He knew he shouldn’t have asked.

“It’s a metaphor of sorts. It means that I carry emotional baggage, meaning I went through some heavy shit in my time and I still carry the effects and memories of that with me. A bit like your little memory problem, only that I know what’s wrong with me.”

Cas nods and sits down next to him, ridiculously overdressed and all, and he takes Dean’s hand and just sits with him, not saying anything, patiently waiting for whatever Dean is ready to give him.

“You know most of it already, the shit with my Mom and how my Dad raised us to hate all bots and everything.” Only Bobby didn’t know that he’s told him, but even with that there’s a lot of baggage left. “Dad was pretty strict, he used to be a marine, and for some reason he thought the best way to protect us was by making us into his own private army.

“It helped I guess,” Dean shrugs and watches his free hand as he rhythmically flexes it. “I could beat up all the bullies who picked on Sammy, but that really was the problem. Dad was too busy fighting against the ‘scourge of society’ aka bots, to take care of Sam and me, and since I’m the older brother it fell to me to look after my brother.

“I don’t know, I suppose I’m pretty messed up. A psychologist would have a fucking field day with my mind. And yeah, I’ve been in some pretty deep shit, but I’ve mentioned that already, got in a lot of fights, I slept around with anything that had two legs and a hole, I dropped out of high school and Bobby had to threaten me to get me to make my GED.” Dean shrugs again.

“So I’m pretty much a failure, I don’t even know why you put up with me.” He didn’t intend to say the last bit, but it just slipped out and he can’t really take it back. It’s true, Cas has given no indication that he doesn’t like Dean but he still can’t understand why. There is nothing he has to offer Cas after all.

“Dean.” And he should have predicted this one, he really should have, because it’s Cas and Cas doesn’t take his bullshit self-deprecating. “Stop assuming things about me. I’m here because I want to be here and there is nothing you could say or do, that would change my mind. The least you can do is respect my decision.”

Okay. Okay, this has no right to be equally as hot as it is reassuring, because Cas is more growling than speaking, and there is really not much room left to argue. There’s no pity, no false comfort, it’s exactly what Dean needs to hear. All he gets out in response is a throaty “Okay” while Cas stares at him with those unnaturally bright blue eyes.

“Good.” Cas growls and Dean didn’t even notice how Cas got this close into his personal space. “Now kiss me.” It’s an order more than it’s a request, and Dean is more than happy to comply.

* * *

 

Monday morning comes and Dean feels like a parent that has to accompany his child to their first day at school. Cas is excited, not openly so, but Dean has gotten good with reading the small signs that betray Cas’ mood and he’s practically brimming with joy.

They’re the first one’s up, Bobby will probably show up soon but Sam, the lucky bastard, can sleep in, because Chuck apparently has some meeting and he’s only got time for Sam afterwards. Dean prepares a can of coffee, counting in the two cups that Bobby will most likely drink. Cas stands leaning against the counter, an impatient expression on his face.

If he were anyone else he would most likely bounce on his feet or tap is fingers or something, but Cas just stands there and stares holes into Dean’s back. As if he could make the time run any faster. Dean throws together a bowl of cereal and milk, he doesn’t have the nerve to make anything better. It’s not his first day, but he feels nervous just the same. Maybe Cas’ mood is infective.

Bobby comes down while Dean is munching on his lucky charms. Cas has settled down in a chair, coffee mug in hands, but the excited energy is still radiating off him. It makes Dean nervous and giddy at the same time, a mood he can’t really say he appreciates.

It takes one and a half cup of coffee before Bobby is finally in the mood for human interactions. “You excited?” He asks Cas, who then starts talking about how much he looks forward to working with the bees and harvest his own honey. Bobby listens with a strained expression, most likely just humoring Cas while secretly regretting he ever asked. It shows much how much they’ve accepted him into their midst, that Bobby tries to accommodate him on his big day.

“Come on big guy, it’s time to go.” Dean says after he’s put away his dishes, Bobby looking almost too relieved for his own good, while Cas just smiles at him. “See you later.” He nods at Bobby who has somehow managed to pull a newspaper out of his sleeve (or wherever else he’s hidden it).

The drive to Joshua’s shop is a short and rather exciting one, not so much because something happens, but because Cas is brimming over with joy. Dean can’t help but chance a sideway glance every now and then, just to see the small smile on Cas’ lips. That smile, just that smile does things to him, he never believed were possible. He wants to smother that smile with his lips, kiss Cas’ breath away, push him back into the seats until he’s moaning. And at the same time he wants to preserve that smile forever, capture it and look at it whenever he feels down. And above all he wants to find out what he can do to cause this smile, to make it wider, until it reached his whole face, until Dean could lose himself in those wide blue eyes.

But it’s probably not a good idea to do any of that while driving. Really, he’s acting more and more  like a lovesick fool these days, that should probably worry him, but he can’t really bring himself to care. He’s denied himself for so long. He’s been hurt in the past, sure, but nothing ever good came out of his fooling around, so why shouldn’t he give this a chance?

And really, he already made that decision, he’s just now acknowledging it.

Dean is already cutting short on his own work time so he only allows himself a good luck kiss before he shoos Cas out of the car. “Call me when you’re finished, I’ll come pick you up.” He orders before Cas closes the door. He’s late, but Dean sticks around long enough to watch Cas walk in, feeling a warm swell of pride in his chest.

The rest of the day passes quickly, Dean sends off a text during lunch to ask how he’s doing, and smiling to himself for the rest of his break about the ridiculously long and thorough reply, describing his day so far in minute detail. He genuinely likes his work and that makes Dean unreasonably happy. Or maybe not so unreasonably, since a happy Cas usually results in a happy Dean.

Jody calls halfway through the afternoon, giving them a heads-up that there was an accident on main street, nothing serious, but a bunch of parked cars got damaged and Bobby can expect some business soon. She promises to send everyone who asks to Singer’s garage and sure enough, half an hour later the first car pulls on the driveway. Damaged chassis and all, but apparently well enough to drive. Bobby has been called to tow off a car that has been too badly damaged to drive and so it falls to Dean to take care of business.

The rest of the afternoon passes rather quickly, a lot of car body damage and smaller repairs, but thankfully nothing serious. They had a few of those totally wrecked cars from really bad accidents, some of them just landed on the scrap yard, but they had to salvage a select few for the insurance company, and Dean really doesn’t want to know how exactly the blood ended up in the AC vents.

He almost misses the buzzing of his cell phone, drowned out by the metal clank as he tries to smooth out the indents in a car’s chassis, but thankfully he catches the glowing of the screen out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah?”

“Dean, is that you?”

“Cas.” Dean rubs a hand over his forehead, he didn’t notice that it’s already this late in the day. “You’re done?”

“Yes I am finished with my work for the day.”

“Okay, listen. We’ve got a bit of a situation here and I’m pretty much tied up right now,” Dean hates that he has to stand up Cas, especially since he has a date planned for later that night, but he can’t just abandon Bobby with all the work that’s piled up. “Could you… uh…”

A hard hand slaps on his shoulder and Dean’s head whips around to look at its owner, Bobby. “Go.”

“But-“

“The world won’t end just because you left work a bit early. No go shower and pick up your lover boy.” Bobby’s tone allows no argument, he tugs the mallet out of Dean’s hand and makes a dismissive hand gesture.

“Thanks Bobby.”

“Yeah, just get lost already.”

“Dean, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing Cas. I’ll be there in thirty, can you wait this long? Maybe Joshua’ll let you stay in his garden.” There’s a quick conversation on the other end, one that Dean can’t understand, then Cas is speaking to him again.

“That’s fine Dean. I’m allowed to keep the bees company.” Ahm, okay?

“Okay, later Cas.”

“See you then Dean.”

Dean manages to change and take a shower in record time. It’s a good thing that he planned on what to wear earlier in the day, so he can save time on that. Since he would be underdressed compared to Cas in any case, unless he wears a suit himself (and that’s a no go), he decides to go for smooth casual, a nice flannel shirt, jeans that haven’t any holes and a quick look in the mirror assures that his hair is in its usual youthful messy state.

He vaguely remembers how a girl named Cassidy once described his hair style as such, he decides to stick with it. Could be much worse. Wild moose for example. He thinks with a certain amount of dry humor that it sure would be a good idea to bring flowers to pick his date up from a flower shop. Thank goodness he isn’t the type for flowers, they just wither and die anyway, he’d much rather have them in his garden where they’ll survive longer. Thinking of that, Cas’ pinwheel could use some company on its lonely outpost, maybe when Cas has learned a few things he could try and seed a few flowers. Would sure add to the barren look of Bobby’s front yard.

The sign in the store window says ‘closed’ when Dean arrives, but he can see light in the back so he knocks on the door. And sure enough, Joshua shows up moments later, unlocking the door to let Dean in. He greets him with a warm smile and then leads Dean towards the back and out through the door in Joshua’s garden.

The garden used to be some kind of backyard, surrounded by other houses on all sides, but Joshua transformed it into a beautiful garden, with flowers and even a few trees. One wall is lined with wooden constructions that contain the beehives and Cas is currently absorbed into the task of watching the bees crawl around their home and do whatever it is that bees do.

Probably having sex with flowers.

Anyway.

“Hey Cas.” Cas smiles instantly upon seeing him, and Dean’s stomach somersaults right out of his body. His hair is more ruffled than usual, and there seems to be something that looks suspiciously like pollen on his face. The only thing that’s missing is a flower crone.

“Hello Dean.” He tries to smooth out his clothes, causing a rain of flower petals to pour down on the ground. Cas actually blushes and picks self consciously at his clothes. “Apologies, I must have overseen a few.” Okay what exactly have they been up to?

“Is this some kind of innuendo?” Dean grins and winks at Cas, causing an even deeper blush.

“Dean.” Cas breathes and his eyes flicker to where Joshua is probably still standing behind Dean.

Dean laughs quietly and smiles. “Come on flower boy. We have an appointment.” Dean reaches out his hand to take Cas’ hand, squeezing once softly in reassurance. They quickly say their goodbyes to Joshua who closes the store behind them. According to Cas he’s living in the apartment above the shop.

“I didn’t know we had an appointment?” Cas asks once they’re in the car.

“Well, it’s a surprise.”

“A surprise?” Cas asks with slight confusion. “For me?”

“Do you see someone else here?” Cas ‘ smile is crooked and he looks down to his hand. He looks almost bashful.

“Dean, that isn’t necessary.”

“It is. And you’re not getting out of it.”

“I have no intent of getting out of it, I just wanted to point out that this was utterly redundant on your part.”

“Are you getting snarky on me?”

“Maybe.”

“Well damn.”

“Are you alright Dean?”

“Sure am. I just figured that now I have seen it all.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You being snarky? Right up there with the jackalope. And I have born witness to that.”

“I don’t understand what a rabbit deer hybrid has to do with this situation. The jackalope is just a myth, caused by sightings of rabbits infected with the Shope papilloma virus. It has been deconstructed about a century ago.”

Dean manages for a whole of two seconds to maintain a straight face before he has to give in to the urge to laugh. Leave it to Cas to randomly state the facts about some mythical creature.

“The more you know.” Dean comments with a smile, that is mirrored by an awfully pleased one from Cas. An awfully self satisfied smile. “You little…” Dean’s smile turns into an appreciative grin and he softly shakes his head. “You’re getting better with this, aren’t you?”

“I have a good teacher.”

“I bet you do.”

The rest of the drive passes with more friendly conversation and small talk. It feels like almost no time has passed at all when they finally reach their destination. Dean has put a lot of thought into where he should take Cas and he has finally settled on a compromise. The classic combo was of course food and then a movie but since eating was optional for Cas, Dean had struggled for a while until he finally decided on what to do.

“I hope you like it.” Dean says after he got out of the car. It’s a small Italian restaurant, not too fancy, not too expensive but still with delicious food and a large menu of small entries - ideal for Cas. Also, pizza.

The smile that breaks out on Cas’ face is a pretty big surprise and causes Dean to almost fall on his face as he stumbles over the curbside. He hadn’t been exactly nervous about Cas’ probable reaction, because he figured you can’t do so much wrong with Italian food, but he certainly wasn’t prepared for the gleam in Cas’ eyes.

“I really like pizza.” Yeah, right, he can remember that one. Cas and his ridiculous meatball pizza, best thing he’s seen for a while.

“Well, okay then. Let’s go, there’s a table waiting for us.” It’s not in Dean’s nature to be a gentleman, but even he knows that it’s a rule of dating to hold open the door and guide Cas to their place. That’s as far as he goes though, Cas is a grown up and perfectly capable of pulling off his coat and sit down on his own. Dean doesn’t like it if when someone tries to do that for him, so he won’t pretend he’s like that, just to woo Cas. Besides, it wouldn’t be a good idea to base their relationship on the false assumption he would be a perfectly adapted member of society.

It might be too late for that anyway, but yeah, no pretending.

A waitress comes to bring them water and hand out the menus, Dean looks through the food listed, but it’s mostly just to pass the time until Cas has chosen, he already knows what he’s going to order. “I can’t decide.” Cas confesses after a while, frowning at the abundance of pizzas before him. “I wish I could try all of them.”

Dean laughs as the inevitable image of Cas surrounded by pizzas pops up in Dean’s mind. It has something irresistibly sexy to think about Cas licking the grease off his fingers. Maybe it’s his hunger, but even the image of Cas covered in melted cheese has something alluring about it. Or maybe it’s just his long dry spell showing again. Seems like he’ll have another date with his hand after this.

This is messed up, even for Dean Winchester.

Holy fucking hell, he wants Cas. He wants him so badly, he wakes up in the middle of the night, soaked in sweat and beyond hard, and thank goodness for that new sleeping mode of Cas’, or else he would have had some awkward explaining to do. Dean’s shower time has dramatically increased and even that isn’t able to rid him of his desires.

Some days he feels like he’s going crazy, and on some days he isn’t sure if he can hold himself back. It’s worse, because he knows Cas wants it too, and he’s not exactly shy with his advances, and maybe if he’d just refrain from anything that triggers Cas’ nervous response. But that just doesn’t sit right with him, he’s not going to take advantage of Cas when he doesn’t know what happened to him, his raging libido be damned.

He realizes that he’s been day dreaming when Cas clears his throat to get his attention.

“What? Sorry, I got distracted, what were you saying.” Cas sighs exasperated, but his eyes are twinkling with a silent smile.

“I said I have decided on what pizza I want to eat.”

“That’s great Cas.” Dean smiles and signals the waiter to come and take their order.

“So how was the rest of your day?” Cas’ face lights immediately up at the question and Dean feels warmth swell in his chest as he listens to Cas talking about flowers and bees, and how Joshua showed him how to pick the right flowers for a bridal bouquet and how to arrange them.

“Did you know that the Lily of the Valley is a common flower used for bridal bouquets, but that each part of the plant are poisonous and potentially lethal?”

“Uhm, no?”

“Queen Catherine of England used one during her wedding ceremony, ever since then it has increased in popularity. Joshua has a whole patch of them in his garden, but I’m not allowed to tend to them yet.” Conversations about flowers are usually not Dean’s cup of tea, but he can’t really say he minds, not with the way Cas’ eyes are sparkling with excitement.

(And Cas’ voice is irresistibly hot, it could never be a labor to listen to it.)

Their food arrives and Cas has to interrupt his explanations in favor of eating his pizza. It’s a relaxed meal, interrupted occasionally by a comment and Dean can’t remember when he has ever felt this at ease while being on a date. Not that he had many dates in his time, but every little one of them had been awkward at best and he had always hoped it ended soon. But this is different, it’s comfortable and relaxed, Dean could look and listen to Cas forever and still feel like he’s had the best time of his life, and when he infrequently thinks that it would be hot to bend Cas over and fuck him senseless than it’s just a side effect of his under challenged libido.

Dean could listen to Cas forever and never grow tired of it. And not so long ago he would have laughed at anyone suggesting that he could ever be this docile. It’s fine though. Really it’s fine. He can do this. He can lock away his horny libido, he can listen and let that be enough, because this is important to him, the thought of losing Cas is infinitely more painful than the thought of never having sex again could ever be.

Huh.

Dean Winchester has really come a long way.

They finish their pizzas and Cas, instead of picking up his monologue, asks him how his day was, and he listens avidly to what Dean has to tell. Even though it can’t be that interesting, mainly bumping out indented car metal and fixing up motors. But Cas listens anyway, a faint smile on his lips and Dean has gotten far too used to that sight, Cas smiling at him, as if he was his world.

It’s a heavy responsibility he realizes all of a sudden, Cas places so much trust in him, and Dean only has a long list of failures to look back upon. There’s far too much that could go wrong, But Dean is already too far in to pull back now. Besides, he couldn’t handle that blank look on Cas’ face anymore, that carefully crafted look of disinterest and indifference that sends a painful stab of hurt into Dean’s chest every time he sees it.

No, He’s got to get his shit together, for Cas’ sake if nothing else.

“You’re over thinking.” Cas’ voice suddenly breaks through his musings, sincere blue eyes staring at him with a concerned frown. Dean is surprised, to say the least. It’s true, he hadn’t been listening for the past few minutes and Cas had not only noticed that but also that he was deep in thought.

“Sorry about that.” Dean rubs a hand over his neck, it’s the second time that Cas catches him distracted this evening, even though this date is supposed to be all about him. He’s supposed to be better at keeping his shit together.

“It’s alright Dean.” Cas smiles and that makes Dean feel even more like shit. “If you don’t want to listen to me, please say so. I don’t want to bore you.” God, no. No, no, no. That’s not what this is about, not at all.

“That’s not it, Cas.” Dean tries to mend, but he can already see Cas’ expression draw in the defenses. He’s fighting it, Dean can see the twitch of his smile as it threatens to fall off, but that doesn’t change that Cas is hurt.

“I swear I wasn’t bored by you talking.” Dean shakes his head, a vain attempt to clear his thoughts, but everything just seems to jumble together even more. “I enjoy listening to you, it’s just…” It’s just that Dean’s mind is his biggest enemy, no one reminds him as much of his unworthiness as Dean does. No one blames him as harshly. And no one is better in picking at his faults.

“Dean, you have to tell me if something is wrong.” And then there’s worry in Cas’ voice as if this were his fucking fault.

The waiter comes to ask if they have another wish, and since they decline, gives them a pointed look that clearly spells they have overstayed their welcome. Dean is not ready to leave just yet, not before he has cleared this up, so he gives him a strained smile and waits until the man has walked away, not without throwing him a dirty glance though. It’s not that the restaurant is packed anyway.

“Cas.” Dean waits until he has Cas full attention. “This is new for me.” He says carefully, absentmindedly tracing the pattern of the tablecloth with his finger. It’s hard to meet Cas’ eyes when he’s staring at him with such intensity. “Don’t get me wrong, I really like… this.” He was about to say ‘you’, but he changed tracks in the last second. “I just…”

“Are you trying to tell me that you feel insecure?” And somehow Cas gets it, just like that. And it shouldn’t feel so easy to admit it, he shouldn’t feel so good just being honest about his weakness. Dean just nods, he doesn’t trust his voice right now.

“Dean, I wish I could tell you that there is no reason for that, but that would be fairly hypocritical of me. This is new for me too Dean, but I’ve decided to trust you and I believe that you would never hurt me willingly. I know that is much to ask, but will you trust me too? I promise, I will give my best, and I won’t ever expect more from you than that you, too, try your best.”

Dean closes his eyes, it’s too much. He doesn’t deserve this man, there’s nothing that he’s done that would warrant this much trust and faith. He can feel his heartbeat almost violently against his ribcage, there’s a shortage of air and he only halfway realizes that he’s having some sort of breakdown.

It’s Cas’ voice (and that really shouldn’t surprise him) that pulls him out of it. “It’s alright Dean. I’ll wait for you as long as it takes.” It’s the most unobtrusive, considering acceptance of a supposed rejection that Dean has ever heard, and it sparks something in him that he didn’t know he could even feel.

He has the presence of mind not to grab Cas’ tie and yank him forward, but to lean over instead and carefully tug Cas to him with a hand gently pressed in his neck. It’s not as wild and passionate as he’d like it to be, but he’s willing to do it like this, as long as he can convey his feelings. The kiss is deep and slow, he draws out every drag of tongue and slide of lips and he only breaks away when he feels Cas’ soft moan.

“Damn it Cas. Of course I trust you, do you really need to ask that? It’s more than just that, I need you Cas.” 

Cas is stunned into silence, his eyes are wide and his lips partially opened. Dean swallows once, unconsciously wetting his lips as he waits anxious for Cas’ reply. This was a big step, it’s as much of a confession of his feelings he’ll ever manage and he isn’t even sure himself what he actually means by it. Only that it’s the most trust he’s ever put in someone, not even Sam.

“Dean.” Cas blinks at him and his voice is heavy with emotion. He smiles, shyly at first but then he breaks out into a full blown grin, and Dean’s heart makes an attempt to join cirque du soleil. The grin is all teeth, eyes crinkling up and it’s by far the most amazing thing Dean has ever seen.

And then he’s pulled into another kiss, tablecloth bunching under his hands as he gasps in surprise. Cas doesn’t lose any time before he’s licking into Dean’s mouth, hands knotting into the hair on his back, pulling him in even closer. He drags his teeth over Dean’s lips, pulling sharply, only to slide his tongue in the next moment. “You are unbelievable Dean Winchester.” Cas growl sends a shiver down Dean’s spine.

And maybe dates really aren’t that bad.


	19. Chapter 19

Ellen’s phone call comes a few days later, just as she had threatened. It’s short and to the point and when Bobby hangs up the first thing he shouts through the house is: “Which one of you idjits told Ellen to invite us to one of her crazy family dinners.”

“You realize that she can only have family dinners with family there, and that just so happens to be us.” Sam yells back from somewhere deeper in the house.

“That’s exactly the point.”

“Okay it was Dean.”

“Thanks a lot, bitch.” Dean calls back from his spot on the living room couch, snuggled up against Cas who has developed the habit of playing with his hair while reading. He has a book of his own, but he can’t really focus on the lines with Cas’ hand in his hair.

“You’re welcome, jerk.”

“So when does she want us there anyway?”

“Saturday. She also said we were supposed to bring dessert.”

“She’s even closing the Roadhouse for us?” Sam walks into the living room, nodding once before he leaves again for the kitchen. “I vote Dean for dessert making, he’s the one who got us in this mess.”

“Sure, I’ll make pie.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Shut up. Anyway, you’re supposed to bring Jess.” There’s some unintelligible grumble from the kitchen before Sam appears in the door again.

“Damn it, she’s serious.”

“Looks like it.”

“Well you’ll better make a damn good pie, we’re going to need every favor we can get.”

“When have I ever failed at making a good pie?” Dean puts a lot of mock hurt in his voice, glancing up at Sam who grins back at him.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe that one time when you used month old eggs and we all got sick for days?”

“Come on, I didn’t know that the eggs had been old. It’s not my fault that Dad never cleaned out the fridge.” He’s said the words before he has the actual time to realize _what_ he’s saying. John has been dead four years now and it’s still a sore spot between them.

Sam and Dad fought a lot, and Dean ended up right in the middle, more often than not and everything went downwards from there when Sam left for college. John fell back on alcohol and Dean - Dean was torn between abandonment issues and wanting to support Sam like the good big brother he was and that ended him in a very bad place. They never talked about the year and a half that Dean was _away_ , the time Sam only heard from his brother via the monthly payment that he received as support for his college fees.

And then John drunk drove his car from the bridge, drowning in the river and his sons had to reunite over his grave. Sam had pieced a few things together, he’s smart after all, but no matter how often he cornered Dean he never once got the whole story out of him. But he knows that Dean blames himself for what happened, because he wasn’t there like the good little son he was supposed to be, but he also knows that Dean resents him at least a little for leaving them back then.

And like good trained Winchesters, they never really talk about their Daddy issues, because they sit too deep, and John had taught them (at lengths) that feelings are for the weak. Sam has been cured of that mostly (or maybe it just never stuck), but there are things even he won’t talk about.

The silence that follows is deafening, it would be easier if they were alone, then they could just pretend Dean hadn’t brought up John’s neglect in conversation, but it’s harder to deny the truth with someone there, because Cas already knows parts of the story, and he’s smart enough to figure out what has derailed their conversation.  Zeppelin whizzes by, but no one pays him any attention, too much locked up in the situation.

“I’d like to assist you with the pie making.” Cas puts down his book and smiles at Dean, a knowing look in his eyes. Dean exchanges a glance with Sam but there’s no chance that either of them would pass up this perfect way out and so Sam just shrugs.

“Suit yourself.” But he wouldn’t be Sam, if he wouldn’t throw one last look at Dean, one that spells both sympathy and understanding. But no regret, never regret. Dean really wishes he knew how Sam is doing that, not feeling a single shred of guilt, because Sam, knows he’s done the right thing and he’s not at fault for Dad’s failures. Or maybe he’s just better at hiding than Dean is.

Only Dean can’t let go so easily of his conditioning. As much as he wants to.

And with that Cas has cleared up the situation effectively and Dean decides a kiss as a reward is in order. Or maybe he just wants to have an excuse to kiss Cas, because honestly, every second he spends not kissing Cas is a wasted second.

“You’re awesome, you know that?” Dean asks against the stubble of Cas’ jaw, wondering idly to himself if he should send a gift basket to whoever designed Cas. The guy was a genius, no doubt.

“Is that so?”

 “Yeah trust me, I’m an expert on the matter.”

“If you say so.” Cas says, and for a moment Dean is sure that Cas is as serious as he sounds until he notices the spark of humor in his eyes. Dean laughs softly and shakes his head. But his next words are solemn, spoken into the crook of Cas’ shoulder. “You make me happy.”

He can hear the sudden intake of breath, can feel Cas’ body tense up under him, before his posture relaxes into the softness of a smile. It feels good in a way, but Dean can’t fight the melancholy that comes with the confession. Nothing good ever came out of Dean being happy, it always ends up in flames anyway. Sometimes quite literally.

All he can wait is for the plane to crash and burn, but at least he can enjoy the ride as long as it lasts. His thoughts threaten to dampen his comparably good mood so he leans in for another kiss, blocking everything out that is not the feeling of Cas’ chapped lips, the slight drag of stubble and the taste of Cas on his tongue, like the smell of air after a storm, crisp and clear but with a sharp undercurrent, like ozone and something sweet even under that.

He doesn’t realize he has his hands under Cas’ shirt until he hears the small gasp and he immediately tenses up. Touching like this is okay for Cas, but Dean hasn’t even realized he’s doing it and he can’t allow himself to lose control like this.

Dean attempts to pull back but Cas traps his hands in his and pulls him close again. “Dean you can touch me, I won’t break.” The statement is almost stern, and Cas underlines his words with one of his soul searching stares.

“I know, but…” It’s hard to say it, they’re both aware of it, of course, but they haven’t specifically talked about it yet.

“Dean, I’m not that fragile. You won’t help me with treating me like a porcelain doll. I know you won’t hurt me, I trust you, but I need you to trust me too, that I would tell you to stop if I ever needed you to. Don’t hold back because you think I’ll break.” His hand is a reassuring weight on Dean’s shoulder, thumb rubbing small circles into his skin and Dean can feel the tension ease out of him.

“Can you do that Dean? Can you trust me?”

He shouldn’t have to ask that again, he really shouldn’t have to. But it’s just Dean, needing to have everything spelled out for him. “I can do that.” He has to do that, Cas is an adult (in the wider sense of the word, if that is even possible) and he’s perfectly able to make his own decisions, he doesn’t need Dean to shelter him from everything.

“That’s all I ask for.” Cas whispers and pulls him in for a kiss, it’s a hungry one, deep and wild and it leaves Dean breathless. But Cas doesn’t give him any time to recuperate, Dean has barely time to inhale before Cas is there again, attacking his lips with his teeth, gently biting and nipping, dragging his tongue over the sensitive skin, all the while his hands press into Dean’s back, and insistent reminder that he is as unpleased with their abstinence as Dean is.

A leg nudges insistently between his knees and Dean is eager to spread open for Cas. Dean moans as Cas presses between his legs, grinds his thigh against his cock that slowly comes to life under the continued stimulation. Cas’ breath is hot against his skin as he kisses his way down Dean’s jaw, gently nipping here and there, teeth dragging over his skin and then he bites down on Dean’s neck and the moan he lets out is downright filthy.

“Not on my damn couch, you idjits.”

Bobby’s voice startles them bad enough that Dean almost falls from the couch, but Cas’ hand stops his descent in the last moment. There’s an awkward silence that follows as Cas and Dean fix the disheveled state of their clothes, neither meeting the other’s eye. Dean knows his ears are beet red and Cas is also flushed, he’s not so sure though if it’s from embarrassment or from their activities.

“You have a room for that, you know.” Bobby grumbles before he leaves the living room again, shooting them one last glance.

“Talk about a cockblock.” Dean jokes and runs a hand through his already messy hair.

“Well we can always continue this in our room.” Cas suggests with a sly smirk.

Dean doesn’t know what excites him more, the suggestion (complete with smirk and all) or the fact that Cas just called his room theirs.

And after an intense make out session Dean decides that far worse things have happened to him. Falling asleep next to Cas is on the very opposite end of that list.

* * *

 

The pie making ends up being a minor disaster on the do-we-have-to-clean-the-kitchen scale, but a complete and utter victory on the awesome pie front. The kitchen is a mess, Cas somehow managed to get flour all over the room (their clothes included) and after Dean ‘accidentally’ gets filling on Cas’ face they spend a good ten minutes cleaning each other off various displaced pie ingredients.

Thank goodness, no one comes in on that, Sam would have thrown a bitch face party, with only him invited and Bobby would have probably kicked them out of the kitchen for good. And both would have refused any piece of pie offered to them, which might be a good thing, because more pie for Dean, but this is supposed to be dessert for everyone, so yeah.

It’s another good thing that Dean made some extra filling in advance, because it would be a shame if they would have had to leave one pie crust empty, because too much of it ended up on Cas’ face and subsequently Dean’s mouth.

Still the whole thing leaves them with a kitchen disaster and two deliciously smelling pies in the oven. Not a bad outcome in Dean’s book, especially not when Cas’ face is covered with flour and he looks so freakishly adorable with the pink frilly apron Charlie gave them for Christmas, and all that with his patented kicked puppy look as he looks around the messed up kitchen.

“I don’t think this is supposed to be part of a normal baking process.” He observes as he tries (in vain) to brush off all the flour from his clothes. The coat is safely stashed away but since neither anticipated this kind of disaster he hasn’t bothered to get his suit to safety. Or maybe Dean just enjoys too much to see him in his suit.

And now he has a golden opportunity to undress Cas, without anyone being able to question his intentions. Not like that has ever stopped him before.

“Well, the flour was never supposed to go on the floor, but other than that, the chaos is normal.” Dean shrugs and runs a finger through a small pile of spilled sugar on the countertop. “Could be worse, we could have flooded the kitchen with milk.”

Cas lets out a defeated sigh. “I never thought the art of pie making was this complex.”

“Yeah but it’s worth it.”

“I know, I’ve tasted your pie. It was awesome.” Cas grins brightly at him as if he’d just ran and won the New York Marathon, as if he’d just made the biggest accomplishment in his life. Dean is surprised, he’s kind of forgotten that he fed Cas pie that one time, but he’s pleased to know that he not only remembered but also obviously liked it.

“Then you will love this one. There’s nothing better than fresh pie from the oven.” Dean pats Cas on the back and walks over to the small cabinet next to the fridge, pulling out a broom. As much as he would like to get naughty with Cas right now, they really should get started on cleaning the kitchen, or Bobby’ll have a heart attack.

They don’t have much time before Ellen expects them for dinner and the sooner they get started, the sooner they’ll be finished and that in turn means, more time in the shower.

“I’m sure I will.” Cas replies and there is a sliver of mischief in his voice as he takes a rug and starts mopping the counter. Bobby walks in in the middle of cleaning, only to turn around and walk out again without so much as a comment.

It doesn’t take long to clean up the rest and then the pie is ready and Dean pulls out two deliciously smelling apple cinnamon pies out of the oven, and for some inexplicable reason the kitchen suddenly fills with the rest of the rather extensive family.

Dean trusts Ellen’s scary reputation to keep everyone away from the designated dessert and leads Cas up to take a quick shower. Everyone’s ready already so they won’t have the luxury of taking a long shower together and for the sake of time saving Dean leaves the upstairs shower to Cas while he uses Bobby’s shower. They could have showered together, but Dean is mature enough to admit that he certainly won’t be able to restrain himself then. He wouldn’t want to, but hasty shower sex (or even a hasty shower make out session) is not the right way to introduce Cas to the more advanced forms of carnal pleasure between men.

And he really wants to do that one right.

After he’s finished his shower Dean quickly towels off and then realizes that he forgot to bring a change of clothes. There’s no point in pulling on his old clothes, that would defeat the purpose of the shower so he has no other choice but to wrap a towel around his waist and walk upstairs.  It’s when he sees Cas’ clothes in the laundry hamper that he realizes that Cas has the very same problem, only no spare clothes to fix it.

He spends quite some time sorting through his wardrobe before he’s found something for the both of them that will meet Ellen’s expectations of what to wear on a family dinner. For a woman who likes to break up bar fights with a shotgun she has some high standards when it comes to family events. But then again Ellen has always been a family woman.

Cas comes out of the bathroom, wrapped into a towel and there’s a look of concern on his face. If he’s surprised to see Dean he doesn’t show it, but his face lights up when he sees the pile of fresh clothes on the bed. Dean has just finished dressing himself and the sight of a half naked Cas reminds him of the uncomfortable tightness of his jeans. He really can’t believe how damn sexy Cas is under that ill fitting trench coat.

“Come here gorgeous.” Dean smirks at the blush that creeps on Cas’ neck. He rests his hands on Cas’ hips, both a way to feel him and to keep a certain distance as he leans in for a chaste kiss. He wants to do more, but there are four people waiting downstairs and he doesn’t want to risk one of them coming upstairs to look for them.

Even Dean can stomach only so many incidents of being found in compromising situations by family members.

“Dean, if you don’t stop that right now I might feel inclined to divest you of your clothes and do unspeakable things to you.” Cas’ voice is low and promising, making it hard for Dean to focus on anything else but the man before him.

“So?” He asks, voice equally low and with a certain interest in his lower regions.

“Yes.” Cas pulls him in closer and Dean lets out a low gasps when his half hard erection gets pressed against Cas’ toweled one. They really need to stop that or Dean can’t guarantee that he’ll keep his hands clean.

“Dean, stop harassing Cas and get your ass down here.” Sam calls from downstairs, effectively dispersing the sexual tension that built up in the room.

“Well I suppose that’s our cue.” Dean says with an apologetic smile. It takes immense effort to pull back, the heat of Cas’ skin is addictive and he just wants to feel him as much as possible. It’s come to the point that Dean is pretty sure when they have sex, it will blow out his mind. He can’t remember ever wanting something this badly as he wants Cas, not just physically but with everything he’s got to offer.

Sometimes it feels like it’s consuming him.

They finally make their way downstairs, all dressed and prim, where the others are already waiting with two packed up pies, ready for departure. Since six people won’t fit in one car, they split up, Cas is of course driving with Dean (and the pie) while the others all pile in Jody’s car.

Dean has to admit there is a certain appeal to Cas wearing his clothes. It’s like the unspoken admission that Cas belongs to Dean, that they’re connected and that seems to fuel the warmth that had been residing in Dean’s chest for quite a while now. It stirs something possessive in him, not the feral jealous type, but a serious voice that likes to remind him that Cas is his and that he better make sure that it stays that way.

Ellen and Jo actually live in the top floor of the Roadhouse building, while Ash resides in a small hut on the backyard. Jo likes to joke that he doesn’t really live there but on the pool table in the bar, and after Dean had thrown a glance in Ash’s ‘home’ he had silently agreed. The one room hut is full of computers and there is not a single space that isn’t covered with some kind of complementary equipment. And a lot of empty beer bottles. He isn’t really sure why Ellen keps him around but he figured he came in handy every once in a while.

Jody’s truck is already parked in front of the Roadhouse when Dean pulls up on the parking lot, which really is more like a huge space of trampled dirt, but apparently still able to deal out severe shoulder injuries. He and Cas each carry on of the pies as they get out of the car and into the building. The bar itself is empty and dark and Dean leads Cas into the backroom, past the closed kitchen door and through a door that leads to a set of stairs. They can hear voices from upstairs, and there is a distinct garlic smell in the air.

Jo apparently made the only thing she’s able to cook properly - garlic bread. Dean would complain about being fed garlic bread every time he eats at Harvelle’s, but it’s freaking delicious (and Jo can get damn scary). And there’s always Ellen’s cooking too, and if Dean is lucky, she’ll serve burgers tonight. Ellen’s bacon cheese burgers are unquestioningly the best burgers in the whole of America.

“The pie has arrived, finally.” Jo cheers when she sees them ascend from the staircase, a broad smile on her lips. She takes Dean’s pie after slapping him good naturedly on the back and winks once at Cas, before disappearing into the kitchen again. Jess already sits at the dining table, talking animatedly with Jody and Dean feels his face splitting into a grin as he takes in the picture. It’s nice to see Jess and Jody bonding, but it’s even nicer to think about the trouble that undoubtedly means for both Sam and Bobby.

Bobby and Sam lounge in the living room, together with Ash and a half emptied six pack of beer on the coffee table, talking and joking, completely unaware of the growing threat in the dining room.

“Dinner should be ready soon. Ellen has banned everyone from the kitchen, but at least she gave us beer.” Ash informs them while Sam fishes out a beer and tosses it to Dean.

“You’re going to have to share with Cas. Jess will flay me if I allow another alcohol poisoning.”

“Hey, we’ve got pie.” Ash waves enthusiastically at Cas, who still stands in the middle of the living room, looking even more displaced in Dean’s clothes than he would have in his own (as strange as that is). “How did you smuggle that past Jo?”

“Well she ignored it in favor of the other pie.”

“Sneaky.”

There’s not nearly enough space on the sofa left for the both of them to fit in, and since Ellen’s armchair is even holier than Bobby’s, Dean won’t even think of sitting in that. He takes the pie from Cas’ hands and quickly drops it in the kitchen, dodging the dish towel Ellen uses to swat at him. At least now he’s sure that Ellen indeed made burgers.

But before he can disappear back into the safety of the living room (and back to his beer, that Cas currently is beersitting), Jo pushes a stack of plates in his hands and orders him to put them on the table.

Together with Jess and Jody he quickly sets the table and then Jo puts down a plate with garlic bread and Ellen follows close behind with a collection of burger ingredients and Dean’s eyes light up as he realizes that they’re doing self made. Jo carries in a basket of bread buns and another round of beer (and juice for Cas and the designated drivers) and somehow that seems to have been the proper ritual to summon the living room gang.

It’s a bit crowded around the table with nine people, elbows bump against elbows, but that only gives Dean an excuse to sit extra close to Cas. Burgers, pie and Cas, his three favorite things united in one evening, if he didn’t know better he’d think he had died and went to heaven. But he’s most definitely still alive, and that’s even better.

Cas takes one bite of his burger and then seemingly decides that the consumption of ground beef between two buns of bread equals a vision of god or something. Dean actually has to stop him from eating more than he can actually stomach, reminding him that he still has to try his pie. The look Cas casts on the remaining ingredients is so dejected that Dean almost caves in, but then Jess resolutely takes the plate out of his reach.

“So how’s work for you Cas?” Jo asks, once everyone has had about enough burgers and no one’s ready to tackle dessert yet. 

“Very well, thank you Jo. I was allowed to tend to the bees yesterday.”

“You like bees?” Ash asks, gesturing at Cas with his beer.

“Yes, I find insects very fascinating in general. Most plants wouldn’t be able to grow without insects.”

“Soon there won’t be any bees left. The government tries to hide it, but the bees are actually disappearing.” Ash leans in, voice toned down to a whisper and eyes flitting from side to side as if he’s expecting to be overheard. “You know the government actually replaced the harmless European bees with African killer bees, but now they’re trying to get rid of them.”

“I don’t understand, why would the government have any interests in bees?”

“Because.” Ash leans in even closer, almost spilling his beer in the process, “they want to control the honey market. If you control the honey market, you control the people.”

“And why exactly would the government want to kill the bees?” Sam asks.

Jo leans in to whisper loud enough for everyone to hear: “Don’t argue with Ash, believe me I’ve tried and it’s pointless.”

“Because the African killer bee is far more aggressive than they anticipated. There have been several accounts of people dying after an organized attack of killer bees.”  

“Are you sure?” Cas asks, eyes squinting so hard they’re nearly closed and it’s pretty obvious that he doesn’t buy any of the shit Ash says. “The term ‘killer bee’ is scientifically incorrect, the so-called Africanized honey bees are hybrid species of Western honey bee species cross-bred with the African honey bee. It’s true though, they are more aggressive than their parent species, along with some other altered traits.”

“Dude, are you working for the government?” Ash asks incredulously, scooting a few inches away from Cas. “Why do you know so much about bees?”

“Knock it off Ash.” Ellen commands with a stern voice when Ash starts building a wall between him and Cas with the empty (and sometimes not empty) beer bottles that are scattered on the table. “No one’s working for the government, and you Cas, don’t let Ash talk you into anything.”

“It’s quite alright Ellen, I enjoy talking about bees.”

“That was quite obvious.” Ellen claps her hands and orders the men (Dean excluded because he helped setting the table) to clean up while she goes to fetch the pie.

“But really Cas, how do you know so much about bees?” Jess asks, leaning over to get a better look at Cas. She’s not the only one though as Jody also leans in and after a quick exchange of looks Dean and Jo decide to move over in the living room. Dean likes to listen to Cas, but he already knows the story and he should encourage Cas to have contact with other people than him, even though he’d prefer to have him for himself.

Ellen is, predictably, not amused over the apparent segregation of her guests, but she silently accepts it, resulting in an unequal distribution of pie, between the dining and the living room. Dean realizes he has to move into the living room to get a close up of Cas’ reaction to his first self made pie.

“Come on Dean, don’t abandon us.” Jo jokes when Dean gets up to walk over to the dining table.

“At least leave your slice here.” Ash calls after him but Dean just waves a hand in the air, before he sits back down at the table. His place is taken up by Jess unfortunately but the smile he gets from Cas is worth the distance.

“I hope you appreciate the pie, we demolished a kitchen for it.”

“How you manage to be the best cook in the Winchester family is beyond me.” Ellen says with a shake of her head.

“Hey.”

“What is it Sammy? You got a problem?”

“Making a salad is not cooking Sam.”

“Thanks Ellen.”

“Don’t worry, you make an amazing chicken salad.” Jess pipes in, only to add with a shrug: “You have to fry the chicken first, so it’s basically cooking.”

“Jessica Lee Moore, you’re going to sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Are you sure that you’re going to survive a whole night without any form of sex? Last time I checked, _you_ were the one with the morning wood.”

“I really didn’t need to know that.” Jo acts as if she was choking on her pie, causing another exasperated shout from Sam and a lot of giggling from Jess.

“To be young again…” Jody muses, exchanging a glance with Ellen that has both laughing into their pie moments later.

“I think I just missed a joke.” Jo eyes her mother and then Jody, before shrugging and returning to her pie.

“It’s awesome Dean.” She says only moments later, mouth full and barely intelligible. For once Ellen doesn’t correct her on her manners.

“You should thank Cas, I baked the pie, he made it awesome.”

“Someone’s getting laid tonight.”

Dean has the lifelong experience with this family that allows him to take the comment without so much of a blush, and Cas lacks the social competence and understanding of colloquial speech to actually get the meaning of said comment. It’s safe to say Jo did not get the reaction to her words she undoubtedly expected.

“Someone’s biased about who’s love life she wants details of.”

“Hey, I would never pass up a golden opportunity, and I’m already mentally scarred, I have nothing to lose.”

A soft nudge against his thigh catches Dean’s attention, and he looks up to see Cas staring at him. Cas makes sure to have his attention before he deliberately lifts his fork and puts it into his mouth, closing his eyes as he slowly pulls it out again, even going as far as to lick of the remaining bits of pie from the tines. Okay whoever taught him that move earns a fucking award.

Cas is pretty much aware of the effect he has on Dean, because he opens his eyes moments later and _fucking winks_ at him. Dean left him alone with Jody and Jess for like five minutes and they already turned him into pure seduction on legs. How is Dean going to survive this?

“Your pie is delicious.” Cas’ voice seems to have dropped another few octaves, and Dean can feel the blood shoot down right between his legs. And then Cas just smirks at him and continues to eat his pie as if nothing had happened, and damn since when did he become such a tease?

Totally not fair, especially since Dean has no more pie left on his plate to get his revenge. He’s not even going to acknowledge that he drew the attention of several of the people around the table, all now staring at him with various expressions of confusion on their faces.

“Everything alright Dean?” Jody asks, concern in her voice, and Dean wonders just how exactly his face looks right now. This really isn’t the right moment to pop an inappropriate boner. Come to think of it, it _never_ is the time to pop an inappropriate boner, that’s the fucking definition of inappropriate. Let’s just say, now is a really bad time for boners.

Damn it Cas.

“I’m fine, I just had too much to eat.” He should have anticipated the disbelieving faces that gets him, he’s Dean Winchester, he can eat three Turducken Slammers without breaking a sweat, and a complete pie on top of that. So of course no one is going to believe that he just ate too much. But there is no way in hell that he’d insinuate that there might be something wrong with the food. He’s neither going to insult Ellen’s awesome burgers, nor the pie.

“It happens.” He shrugs, leaning back in his chair, as if he were all nonchalant, and shooting Cas a look on the next possible occasion. It’s uncomfortable, sitting with one leg over the other, while his erection wants nothing more than to reenact ‘Free Willy’, and that is not even the worst part, because Cas, the damn bastard, looks at him as if he knows exactly what kind of effect he has _without even touching him_.

Damn it, that means war.

“That’s probably the age.” Sam calls in from the living room, a shit eating grin on his face. “Dean’s poor old man belly can’t stomach all the goodies.”

“Says the one who only eats rabbit food. Isn’t that the kind of food they feed starved people who can’t keep down anything of real sustenance?”

The ongoing argument with Sam is a good cover for what Dean plans to do next. Half of the people present have already turned their attention elsewhere, they’re all far too used to the brothers bickering to pay it any more mind. And the few who are still listening have their attention trained on said conversation, so no one’s going to notice the foot that Dean carefully moves forward under the table. It’s a good thing that Jess snatched his former seat, or else he would have never sat down across from Cas.

“Very funny, jerk.”

“You know you like it, bitch.”

Almost there, almost there. It’s a very precise movement, one touch too early and the whole thing is spoiled. No, he needs to get Cas unexpectedly.

“Come on you two, we all know the routine. How about you make yourselves useful and get your chairs in the living room so that we can have a conversation that includes everyone.” Ellen chides, but before anyone can say anything, the silence is interrupted by Cas’ loud gasp.

Dean has to hide his triumphant grin behind a hand, he hasn’t exactly hit bull’s eye, but his attempted footsie had the intended effect. Cas’ is glaring at him, a furious blush on his cheeks and Dean is pretty sure that at least his toes brushed over something that decidedly was not a leg. Thank Ellen for her insistence of no shoes in the apartment.

“Leave your boyfriend alone.” Ellen whaps him over the head before she carries her chair over into the living room.

No one else seems to have noticed Ellen’s use of the term boyfriend, they’re much rather inclined to give Dean the bitch face for apparently abusing Cas in public. But Dean is more fixed on what Ellen said, and on how Cas looks at him with wide eyes, bordering on hopeful. They still haven’t labeled their relationship, and Dean would prefer it if they never would, but he can’t just ignore the way Cas looks at him.

They both stay sitting when the others around the table follow Ellen’s example, Cas because he’s fixed on Dean, and Dean because he can’t go without giving Cas at least some sort of answer. He doesn’t like the word boyfriend, it’s commitment, it’s loaded with so many things that Dean has tried to avoid ever since Cassie. But his denial doesn’t change that they’re together, that there is something between them, a connection (for some reason Dean imagines Cas naming it a ‘profound bond’), and it’s not fair to Cas, to leave him in the doubt about what exactly _it_ is.

Only Dean doesn’t really now himself what it is, what he wants it to be.

Does he want it to be permanent? Yes, preferably.

Does he want it to be serious? That’s kind of a requirement for a permanent relationship, or maybe it’s the other way round.

Does he want to make this work, even though all his previous relationships ended in drama, and there’s a significant chance of this relationship going a similar way, just because it’s Dean? Definitely.

Because he’s happy with Cas like he hasn’t been in a long time. Because Sam is making a life of his own, getting his PhD and a girlfriend, and Dean can see the potential there. Because even Bobby has found someone that is genuinely good for him, after he spent so many years with guilt and regret over Karen. Because it’s finally time that Dean Winchester gets his chance at happiness, and he will make sure with everything he’s got that he won’t screw this over.

“Come on.” Dean says softly, a warm smile on his lips as he reaches forward to take Cas’ hand and pull him up. Making grave decisions in his mind fortunately has a rather deflating effect on his excited anatomy. (Okay, he’s not sure if that’s a good thing actually, but for now he won’t complain about it.) He should maybe be worried about his eager reaction, two seconds of Cas sucking on a fork and he’s already wet and ready.

Cas smiles at him, even more so when Dean squeezes his hand in reassurance and there’s a short spark of understanding in Cas’ eyes, and Dean can be sure that he understands, without being told. Whatever they are, it might not have a name, but it is very well true.

And for now, that’s enough.


	20. Chapter 20

Family events have the certain ability to make Dean feel both satisfied and annoyed on a very deep level at the same time. Sure, it’s family, and these are the most important people in his life, but they aren’t exactly making him comfortable. But it’s like Bobby tends to say, getting on your ass is what makes them family.

Thankfully they moved past the familiar inquisition, to more preferable pastimes. Ellen has a penchant for asking uncomfortable questions, but at least Dean reminds himself, she means well. And since he had been able to avoid a cornering about his shoulder injury, Ellen had used the opportunity to get him to spill some beans. She really was an elephant when it came to those things, the wound was long healed and he could move his arm perfectly again (Jess had looked it over and decided it was not severe), but she still wasn’t satisfied.

He had managed to deflect her questions mostly, and convinced her that he must have hurt his shoulder during the brawl and only noticed later, but he could already tell that she was not the only one with doubts. But she let the subject drop, mostly because even Ellen realized that she couldn’t get everything out of Dean (or maybe she just recognized his unwillingness to speak in front of so many people).

Regardless, they moved on to other topics, and Dean could finally relax again.

Ash got out his laptop at some point (no don’t ask where he hid it, Dean really doesn’t want to know), and now alternates between showing kitten videos and hacking into some sort of government agency’s private server. Or that’s what it looks like at least to Dean, he decides not to think about it too hard.

“Come on Dr. Badass, you promised me presidential cat pictures thirty minutes ago. I’m still waiting.” Jo pokes her toe in Ash’s side, leaning over to get a look at the screen. Ash is lying on the ground, propped up on his elbows and typing away on the keypad with what looks like a painful angle for his wrists.

Jody, Jess and Sam are off to the side and in their own little conversation, Bobby has a deep conversation with his beer and occasionally Ellen, and Cas seems to be perfectly content with cuddling with Dean. And if Cas’ hand has rested on Dean’s ass (under his pants) for the last quarter of an hour, no one has to know about that. Dean makes up for it by massaging the back of Cas’ calf with his toes. His legs seem to be a sensitive spot for Cas, and Dean makes sure to exploit that as much as possible.

“Don’t doubt Dr. Badass.” Ash chides and opens another cat video on youtube.

“That is not the presidential cat.”

“Do you know that for sure?”

“That video has Chinese captions, I’m pretty sure it’s not the presidential cat.”

“Why do you even want the presidential cat?”

“Hey, I was satisfied with any cat, you were the one who insisted on being able to hack into anything and get me a picture of any cat I wanted. Be glad I didn’t ask for Cleopatra’s cat.”

Ash grumbles something under his breath and returns to furiously typing in program code.

“Does the president even have a cat?” Bobby asks into the ensuing silence.

“Probably not.” Ellen says dryly. “Come on children, enough play time for now. Ash, if you get us the CIA on our asses I will have yours before they ever get to it.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll be more likely NID or NSA.”

“You realize that NID doesn’t exist?”

“No way.”

“Seems you have to get yourself a new job Maybourne.”

Dean shakes his head to himself. His family is crazy but he has accepted that a long time ago. He wouldn’t want it any other way. It’s comfortable like this, mostly thanks to Cas, but also because he has the people around he cares about. These are the kinds of events he would have wished for in his childhood, instead of the only warm home cooked meal he would get being one he made himself. Instead of dingy motel rooms and more than questionable stains on their beds.

(And a lot of sleepless nights, because Sammy had a nightmare and couldn’t fall asleep without Dean next to him.)

It’s getting late and even a good hostess as Ellen has enough of her guests at some point. “Thanks for coming.” Ellen pulls Dean into a hug, short and efficient, the only kind of hug Dean accepts from people who are not Sammy (and Cas). And then she pulls Cas in a hug too, thanking him too for coming, and then she dismisses them with a pat to their backs.

It’s almost funny how the amount of people he considers family has increased over the past few months. He has to hug nearly the double amount of people, even counting only the people who actually want a hug. Not so long ago he would have felt wary about the new additions, Dean has always believed in keeping the family circle small, but he can’t deny the good feeling that comes with it.

And somehow all that change is related to Cas. Cas made him see himself in a different light, Cas helped him on the way to accept himself as what he is, and even though it is still a long way to go, Dean is sure with Cas help he’ll get there.

Jess and Sam hitch a ride with Dean on the way back, Jody is taking Bobby home with her. He would complain about continuously being the designated driver, but considering his history with alcohol, it might be for the better. He hasn’t been tempted to drink out of frustration, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t go down the same road John went so many years ago. He likes beer, and as long as he only drinks with company it should be fine, but he’s still cautious.

And since Cas can’t drink much per default, they can at least camp out on sober island together. And do naughty things there, like the responsible grown up adults they are. That’s probably the reason why Cas has his hand suspiciously close to Dean’s crotch, innocently resting on his thigh and acting for whole the world as if he wasn’t close to fondling Dean through his pants.

Really, wherever Cas’ sudden interest in his lower regions came from, Dean really doesn’t have one single reason to complain. Or rather no, he actually has a reason to complain and that is his little brother and his girlfriend sitting in the backseat, invariably getting in the way of everything that might happen on the front seat.

Cas’ thumb starts rubbing circles in Dean’s thigh, edging closer and closer to where the real treasure lies and Dean has to actually make an honest effort to keep his focus on the street. He’s been hypersensitive when it comes to Cas for quite a while now, the slightest movement sends his thoughts off into a certain direction and it gets harder and harder to control himself. And judging by Cas carefully concealed attempt on moving closer, he doesn’t want Dean to control himself.

 This could escalate very quickly.

“So do you guys want to me to drop you off at Jess’ place or are you coming to Bobby’s?” Dean asks, partially to distract himself and partially because he hopes that the answer is Jess’ place and he and Cas can have the house to themselves. Cas index finger flicks out against the slight bulge in Dean’s pans, almost innocently, and Dean realizes that it might not have been such a good idea to draw attention to him by asking a question, not when Cas is definitely out for game tonight.

“We’ll crash at Bobby’s, Jess’ car is still there.” Sam informs them and Dean is just a tiny bit disappointed. He has no real qualms about letting Sam listen in on his nightly activities, but he figures that Cas would prefer the privacy. Well they can always try and stay silent. And at least he should try and spare the Lady.

Cas obviously thinks so too, because his innocent one finger treatment has turned into two fingers gently pinching and rubbing at his growing bulge, and now there is a certain want behind his touches and Dean can feel Cas’ eyes on him. He’s tempted to look over, but he’s sure that he won’t be able to pull his gaze away, and that would certainly be a health hazard to his passengers.

“Okay then, home it is.”

“I think I’m going to take a nap.” Jess yawns, blinking a few times before she drops her head on Sam’s shoulder. Dean grins at Sam in the rearview mirror and waggles his eyes once suggestively, earning him an eye roll and a pointed look towards where Cas’ hand is doing sneaky things.

Damn it.

Well, if Dean is anything, it’s cocky, so he slaps on another smirk, winks at Sam and puts his eyes back on the road, just in time for Cas to pull down the zipper and drag part of his attention down into his pants. It’s a good thing that it’s in the middle of the night and they’re alone on the road, Dean isn’t sure he would be able to pull off an emergency break right now. Cas wiggles his fingers into his pants, a thumbnail dragging over his boxer briefs and really that is way too hot to handle right now.

He can practically hear the bitch face in the back seat at the tiny little moan that escapes Dean at the contact. At least Jess is innocently snoring and drooling on Sam’s shoulder. Dean chances a glance to the side, getting immediately caught up in deep blue eyes and a knowing smirk that could rival any one of Dean’s saucy grins with ease.

“Dean, you should pay attention to the road.” Cas’ voice seems even gravellier than before, and his smile is infuriatingly provocative. He’s exactly aware of the effect he has on Dean and he is playing him like a fucking guitar. And the worst part is that the bastard is right, so Dean forces his eyes ahead and is promptly rewarded by another pinch to his cock.

Sam clears his throat, throwing another bitch face at Dean and gesturing with his eyes to the sleeping Jess in his arms. Dean feels a hysterical laugh bubble up in his chest, the situation is just so ridiculous. He’s driving his baby with Cas’ hand down his pants, his brother is in the backseat glaring daggers at him with his sleeping girlfriend drooling on his shirt. It could be almost considered an ordinary night for the Winchesters.

Somehow, he doesn’t exactly know how, they make it home in one piece, and Dean stays sitting in the car, hands clenched around the steering wheel until his moose of a baby brother has carried his girlfriend out of sight and earshot. Cas is still grinning in his perpetual vision, and the moment he hears the front door closing, he turns and pulls Cas in for a deep bruising kiss.

Cas tenses for a moment, frozen solid under Dean’s hand, and Dean instantly berates himself for rushing in, because that has always triggered Cas in the past, but before he can pull back Cas hand tightens around his cock and his other hand is on Dean’s neck, pulling him in until they tongues clash together. It’s a wild kiss, a chase of tongues as they both try to outdo the other and it leaves Dean flushed and breathless.

“Inside.” Dean’s voice is gruff, his lips feel almost raw from Cas’ teeth, but he sees his want mirrored in Cas’ glazed over eyes and he realizes with a start that this is it, there’s nothing to hold them back now, he has promised to trust Cas and he will. And as long as Cas wants this, Dean will do everything he can to get him that.

The house is dark, no trace of either Jess or Sam, but all those details only register faintly at the edge of Dean’s mind. He’s more occupied with the warm body that presses against him, insistent and insatiable. It feels like Cas’ hands have multiplied, they’re everywhere at once, under Dean’s shirt, in his hair, sneaking under the rim of his pants, pressing into his hips, but all that is shadowed by the heat of Cas’ lips on his.

Dean manages to close the door somehow, or maybe Cas did it, he can’t really distinguish their bodies right now, and it really doesn’t matter because Cas is pressing him against a wall and there’s a leg shoved in between his and something nudges insistently at his crotch and he doesn’t want to care about anything else in the moment.

The slight sexual tension at Ellen’s, the whole lot of sexual tension in the car, all the repeated sexual tension during the last days has built up to this, and Dean would be damned if he lets anything in between them now. Still, he can’t let go of his caution completely, part of his mind keeps monitoring every of Cas’ reactions, waiting for a sign, the slightest hint that something’s wrong, but all that happens is that Cas’ hunger seems to increase.

“Cas…” Dean growls, but the thought gets lost in the drag of Cas’ teeth along his jaw and the low moan that escapes the other’s throat, a rumbling sound that hunts a trail of goose bumps down Dean’s spine. He fists his hand into Cas’ hair, pulls his head up so that he can kiss him again, slide his tongue in against his teeth, chasing the deep sated taste of Cas, a thing that Dean is still sure shouldn’t exist.

 But it’s there and Dean can’t get enough of it, he can’t get enough of everything, of the knee rubbing between his thighs, of the flashes of heat that shoot through him every time Cas touches him, of the faint sounds that Cas lets out every time Dean touches him. He’s pressed against the wall, and it’s slightly uncomfortable but Dean can’t remember why they shouldn’t be doing this here downstairs, there’s a reason somewhere, but it’s all blurry and then Cas’ teeth bite down on his bottom lip, gentle, but the feeling of teeth is unmistakably.

“Dean, there are too many clothes in the way.” Cas’ voice is a low gravelly whisper against his skin and it does things to Dean’s body that shouldn’t be possible.

“We should fix that.” Dean’s voice comes out even lower, barely a scratch on his vocal chords and he can feel the shivers that sends through Cas’ body. “But not here.” Because not even Dean could ever be horny enough to risk Bobby’s wrath by fornicating in his living room. And he honestly can’t believe that he just used the word ‘fornicate’ in his thoughts.

Cas doesn’t move and the press of his body isn’t exactly helping with keeping his thoughts focused. The couch over there is really tempting right now, a slight push would be enough and he could get Cas on it, divesting him of all clothes and then take his sweet time in exploring every little nook and cranny.

“I promise I make it worth your while when we get upstairs in my room.” Dean manages to scratch together enough self control to gently push Cas away, only a few inches, but it’s enough to get his attention. The bedroom has also the benefit of being stocked up in lube and condoms, and that will certainly be a necessity at some point. And a bed is much more comfortable than a couch could ever be.

Cas makes a low sound in the back of his throat, something between a needy whine and a predatory growl, and he’s short of slamming Dean’s head against the wall when he surges in to kiss him again. Dean indulges him - screw that, he indulges himself as much as he does Cas, but only for a few moments, because they’re still not in close proximity to their bed. This time Cas lets him go without complaint, following him through the darkness of the room to the stairs and up until they reach the second floor.

They stay close to each other the whole time, Cas hovering closely behind Dean, and they bump in more than one piece of furniture along the way. There’s light coming from under the door to Sam’s room, but Dean is too far gone to care, all he wants is to get Cas into their room as soon as possible. It takes an embarrassingly long time for Dean to fumble open his bedroom door, he’s too distracted by Cas’ lips on the nape of his neck, barely touching his skin but it’s already enough to derail his entire train of thoughts - which hadn’t been too stable to begin with.

And all that without even undressing yet.

The door falls shut behind them with a dull thump, and only moments later Dean’s legs bump against the edge of the bed and he just lets himself fall back, pulling Cas with him and down on top of him. He fumbles a bit until he reaches the switch of the bedside lamp, and he barely makes it before Cas attacks his mouth again.

Now there is no reason to hold back anymore, Dean’s hands are frantic as he tries to get at as much skin as possible, pushing the shirt up until he has free access to the plane of Cas’ chest. Cas is just as eager, licking and nipping at the skin on Dean’s neck while his hands roamed over his torso, as desperate to get into contact as Dean is.

Dean drags his fingers over Cas’ skin, marveling at the jump of Cas’ heartbeat under his palms, wondering, not for the first time, if there’s a real heart underneath, one that beats and pumps electrolyte through Cas’ body like a human heart would blood. He flicks a finger out against one nipple, and Cas’ breath hitches, a delicious sound that makes Dean’s blood boil with want.

Cas’ arms tremble where they keep him up above Dean and he closes his eyes under the onslaught of Dean’s lips on his neck. Dean can feel his harsh breath against the bend of his own neck, where he rests his head, unable to focus enough to upkeep his own ministrations. It’s time for a switch of position, Dean decides and he hooks a leg under Cas’ and pushes them both over until he’s on top.

It takes a bit of shuffling but eventually he’s able to pull off Cas’ shirt, following it with his own shortly after. They’re both half naked now, and Cas softly licks his lips as he takes in the sight of Dean’s chest in front of him.

He’s not a sap, and he certainly will never allow someone to call him that to his face, but this might very well be the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. Cas’ lips are slightly parted as he puffs out breath (breathing in air he doesn’t need, but that’s a tangent Dean won’t go off on, not now when Cas is positively wrecked), his eyes are wide and impossible blue, pupils blown into dark mirrors that seem to absorb everything that Dean has to offer and there’s a deep tinged flush of red on his cheeks.

“God,” He whispers against the dip of Cas’ collar bone, tracing the goose bumps his breath raises on Cas’ skin with his words. “you are amazing Cas.” It’s remarkable how perfect Cas’ skin is, there is not a single blemish, not an inch that hasn’t that perfectly light tan, and yeah, Dean knows it’s because it’s artificial skin and all, but that doesn’t make it any less impressive. The skin is smooth, no trace of sweat or anything, but Dean can still taste a hint of Cas when he licks along the expanse.

And even though it is artificial, even though he’s not human but a machine, with wires and circuits under his skin, he reacts just like a human would. He has sensitive spots (his nipples, the nape of his neck, the spot right behind his ear, the backs of his legs) and he reacts every time Dean touches him there. It’s intoxicating to listen to Cas, there’s a soft growl when Dean nips at the skin behind his ear, a breathless gasp when he licks along his neck, a strangled moan when he pinches a nipple and all the while Cas’ hands drag over Dean’s back, blunt nails scraping at skin and it only adds to the heat coiling in his stomach.

“Dean… please.” Cas moans the words more than he says them, and Dean isn’t exactly sure what he’s asking for, but he has a general idea, and from the way Cas’ hips surge upwards when he brushes a knuckle over the bulge in his pants, he assumes that he was right.

He can’t believe he has put this off for so long. The sounds Cas made before were already sexy as hell, but that is nothing compared to his sounds now. He arches his head back into the mattress, neck bowed tightly as his breath starts to get shallower and ragged with every little touch that Dean administers to the outline of his cock. Cas’ hands claw into Dean’s back, certain to be leaving stripes of red along his skin but Dean doesn’t really care. Not when Cas is slowly falling apart underneath his hands.

A quick tug and the zipper is open, the button undone with a bit of fumbling and then he’s pushing into Cas’ (Dean’s) pants, a mirror to the actions of his mouth on Cas’ chest. But this is not enough, there’s still fabric in the way, and this just won’t do. He sits up to check one more time if this is alright, if Cas still wants him to go on, and what he gets in reply is the image of Cas’ body bent back into the sheets, hands clinging to the sheets where they fell once Dean was out of reach, chest heaving, skin flushed red, the perfect picture of wantneedmore.

How could he withstand that?

He can not.

Dean tugs down Cas’ pants, dragging his hands along the skin on his thighs, dipping down to lick at Cas’ navel as he pushes them off his feet. Cas’ belly is all smooth and hairless, unlike his legs and it quivers under the firm press of his tongue as he licks down to the seam of Cas’ underwear. He doesn’t hesitate, there’s no time for that now, as he pushes down the last bit of fabric that separates him from the last bit of Cas he hasn’t explored yet.

Cas groans at Dean’s first soft drag of his thumb, his hips buck slightly as Dean slides a finger over the top and then -without giving so much as a warning- he lowers his head down to engulf Cas’ cock with his lips. There’s barely any taste, not like so many other cocks Dean has sucked, only a faint trace of Cas’, the taste of air after a lightning strike and another heady flavor underneath that, faint, but overwhelming nevertheless.

From what he has told them, Dean more or less knows that Cas isn’t a virgin, that he’s pretty much done some things with Amelia, and from his reactions Dean has also extrapolated that something else has been going on during his time out, but at this moment it doesn’t feel like this at all. Cas tries to bite back his sounds of pleasure, but in Dean’s opinion that only makes them filthier, and therefore much better.

He puts a hand around the base, thumb pressing softly into the thick vein on the underside as he drags his lips along the shaft, wetting the skin until it’s glistening with saliva. But no matter how often he slides his tongue over the hot skin, Cas’ taste never fades, it refuses to be drowned out by Dean’s own taste, and the more he tastes of it, the deeper it sucks him in.

(Maybe it’s some kind of drug, secreted by the skin, maybe it’s artificially made to make the taste more appealing, maybe there is a reason behind it that Dean doesn’t want to think about.)

Dean has given plenty of blow jobs, most were okay, almost none were pleasant for him, he used to drool a lot during those, an attempt to block out the pungent taste of many of them, and more than once did he regret to have actually gotten to his knees in the first place. But this is different, Cas is different, there’s no rough hand in his hair forcing him down, there’s not that hint of unwashed skin that would make him gag, there is only that dim taste of something foreign and enticing on his tongue, and it grows stronger with every second.

Cas is a mess underneath him, his hands clench and unclench in the sheets and he has given up on trying to bite back his moans as Dean slowly takes him apart. His hips buck up, but with a clearly present restraint, as if he were cautious of hurting Dean, even now when he’s so far gone that Dean’s name on his lips sounds like a prayer.

It was meant as a part of foreplay, some quick action to get Cas hard and ready, but now Dean can’t find the will to stop. He licks once along the shaft, before plunging down with his mouth, taking as much in as possible, by his own will, no hand on his head pushing him down, and he tries hard to relax his throat as not to gag, but he was never good with this, he has to pull back almost immediately before he actually has to throw up.

(It is to be expected, but still he feels like trying again and again, until he can keep Cas trapped in his throat, until he can make him squirm with the hum of his throat.)

There are other things he can do though, he can wrap his hand around the base and jerk him off while he sucks at the tip, while he drags his tongue through the slit, while he pulls every little trick out of his repertoire, all to get Cas to unravel beneath him.

He can feel it coming, Cas’ legs tense up, toes digging into the bedspread, along with his hand, the other clenching down on Dean’s shoulder (not a point for pressure but an anchor for his mind and body), and then there is a low choked sound coming  from Cas, torn between needy want and maybe a warning. His whole body seems to lock up, back arched in a tight bow up and into Dean’s welcoming mouth and usually Dean is not one for swallowing, but this is Cas and that changes everything in ways Dean can’t even begin to fathom.

Cas moans, a sound that could be Dean’s name, but it’s hard to tell with the way how wrecked his voice is right now and Dean braces himself for the tangy taste of sperm, but even though Cas’ body shows all signs of orgasm, the load never comes. Cas’ cock seems to grow harder in his mouth, a minute tremble and then it softens, slowly returning to its flaccid form and Dean realizes that this is it, Cas is no human, and apparently whoever made him didn’t think a substitute for sperm is necessary.

(Whatever he should make of that.)

(He wonders briefly if that also means he doesn’t have a prostate.)

It’s strangely disconcerting, he didn’t expect this and Dean can feel his own hardness deflate in his still unopened pants. It’s not exactly turning him off, it’s more like he can’t really grasp the concept yet and Dean has never handled it well to be caught off guard.

He feels blindsided, even though he should have expected that, but with all the miniscule details that let him forget that Cas actually isn’t human, he kind of figured that this would just be like all the other things.

(Fake sperm, why not? Could taste sweet, like candy, and really, wouldn’t that be a joy?)

And it’s so messed up, all of it, and it shouldn’t matter so much to Dean, but for some reason it does, only he can’t figure out why. It’s not like he wants to get pregnant some day, it’s not that he craves the taste of spunk or even that this is some way Cas has let him down. It should be nothing, inconsequential, but still Dean finds himself staring at Cas’ flaccid cock as if it personally has betrayed the trust Dean’s put in it.

(And he’s still not meeting Cas’ eyes, Cas who’s been surely staring at him by now, waiting for something -a sign- that everything’s okay, and that he hasn’t overstepped some line by orgasm in Dean’s mouth.)

Dean doesn’t even understand why he’s disappointed. But he knows that Cas is silently freaking out over there, it’s in the minute tremble of his hands, the short intakes of breath, a razor sharp sound cutting through the air as he’s working himself into a panic. (Sex is always a sensitive topic, and it’s no surprise Cas is freaking out, especially since they suffer from a glaring lack of communication throughout their relationship.)

“Cas, it’s alright.” Dean hurries to amend, and there is an audible exhale, shaky, but bare of the sharpness from earlier. (And how could Dean ever be so dumb to let this get to him? It’s Cas, still Cas, and it doesn’t make any difference.)

“I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to…” Cas trails off, and really that is the problem (among the fact that they’re both terribly inept at _communicating_ ), Cas can’t know what he’s supposed to have done wrong, because there is nothing wrong, just Dean who gives off misleading signals and who only know finds the courage to look up at Cas.

Hurt.

It cuts Dean right into the heart, the confusion and the _hurt_ , because Cas just opened himself up to him, surrendered himself to Dean and all he’s gotten in return was strained silence. And silence always invites for misinterpretation.

And then Cas’ eyes drop to where the obvious tent in Dean’s pants used to be, now obviously missing. And this is it, their relationship is new (frighteningly so), precariously balanced between Cas’ damaged memories and Dean’s inability to form healthy emotional bonds, and they haven’t talked it through, they just jumped into it, and now Dean isn’t even showing any signs that he wanted this, that this was something they both enjoyed equally, and no surprise Cas is freaking out, because there aren’t so many ways to read this. (And with how new this still is, and with what little experience they both have with relationships and emotions, there is almost only one way how Cas can interpret this. It’s what Dean would do, go for the obvious, the easy way of blaming himself.)

And now Dean understands what Cas ‘didn’t intend to do’, he didn’t intend to receive service from Dean without giving something, anything, in return, without Dean at least enjoying himself. To think about it makes Dean’s head hurt, they could easily laugh this off -probably-if this hadn’t just been their first time together, if there weren’t so many unspoken things between them, because this whole relationship sails on assumptions, and those can be terribly unreliable.

(Dean just hopes his words won’t fail him.)

“It’s not you.” He starts and it’s already inadequate. (This is how bad break ups start. ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ And Dean definitely watches too many dumb soap operas.) His mind is a mess of insufficient explanations and jumbled words that don’t make any sense, and whenever he drags a sentence to the forefront of his mind, ready to speak, his tongue fails him in the last second.

But it’s Cas who speaks up next, eyes guarded as he looks at Dean. “Why would you… do _that_ with me, when it obviously doesn’t please you?” His voice sounds almost blank again, like he’s preparing himself for a reply he doesn’t expect to be good, like he already braced himself for unavoidable disappointment.

And it’s Dean who put that look on there and all he can think of is how to make it better. “Look, don’t ever think I don’t want this, don’t ever think I wouldn’t tell you when I don’t like something. And this-“ He makes a vague hand gesture that may or may not point at his crotch (and damn isn’t that making him self-conscious right there). “has nothing to do with you.”

Cas looks at him with an expression that clearly shows he’s not buying it. It’s full of doubt and hurt and Dean realizes he has to angle this from a whole different point.

“Cas, how do you think this is supposed to work?” There’s a frown on Cas’ face, like he doesn’t understand the purpose of the question, or maybe he doesn’t understand why Dean feels the need to bring it up. The answer is essential though, because Dean needs to understand what Cas thinks this is, because he’s not going to try and explain something without even knowing _what_ it is precisely that he should explain. Read: He’s not going to make it worse by assuming things.

“I’m supposed to please you.” Dean can’t help but to gape a bit at that blatant statement. From all he has gleaned so far, he had assumed that while inexperienced (not meaning a virgin, but with little experience), Cas wanted more or less the same thing than Dean did. Getting on the naughty, doing it like bunnies, moving furniture or whatever you like to call it.

And while that might be true for the general sex part, it now comes to his mind that ‘sex’ might mean something else for Cas than for him.

“You are… what?”

“I’m supposed to please you. Be at service to you.”

“Okay. Just give me a second here.” Dean rubs a hand over his forehead. This has taken a turn he hasn’t expected. Cas’ words sound too much like they’re a conditioned response, like he’s spent so much time with this mindset that he’s started to believe it. And that’s just messed up.

This would probably be easier if they weren’t naked (or half-naked in his case), but now is not the right time to develop modesty. And it’s not Cas’ dick that caused the problem after all.

“Do you really believe that? That you have to be at service to me? So then why were you letting me... do… that.” Yeah, Dean has always been bad at talking about sex (Strangely, he has no problem with doing dirty talk, or generally talking about sex during sex). But Cas seems to understand, and that is all that matters.

Cas’ eyes grow even wider and there’s confusion there. It’s as if a puzzle piece has turned up he doesn’t understand yet, so he turns it around in his brain until he has figured it out. Like that is a thought that hadn’t even occurred to him.

“I didn’t think there was anything wrong with it. You wanted to do it and it felt good. But then…” He shrugs, a look of frustration on his face as if he doesn’t really understand it either.  “It feels like I have done something wrong, like I have failed you. I shouldn’t have let you service me, that was supposed to be my duty.”

“Damn it Cas, stop calling it servicing.” Cas flinches and Dean realizes that he has raised his voice, not much, but enough to startle Cas. “Look, all I’m saying is that this is something you do because you want to do it, because both parties want it. It is mutual, and if sometimes only one ends up on the receiving end that’s fine too. And yeah, sometimes a guy fails to keep it up, it happens.” As embarrassing as that might be.

 “Cas, please tell me you didn’t do this because you thought you have to.” Because Dean already feels like crap, because he might have taken advantage of Cas, unknowingly so, but still.

 “Dean.” There he is again, the Cas he knows. Stern and serious, looking at him like that time when he told Dean to trust him. Huh, right. “I want this, just as much as you do.” (Dean notes somewhere in his mind that he still speaks in present tense.) “I just don’t understand where these feelings come from.”

Oh.

And suddenly it all makes sense.

There’s a sick feeling in Dean’s stomach and he has the burning urge to punch someone. He’s had this suspicion since the moment Cas had his first reaction to too much contact (to contact that could be interpreted as forced contact Dean recalls) and now he’s sure. The conditioned response, the confusion about said conditioned response, and the sick feeling in Dean’s stomach intensifies.

Something happened to Cas in the period between Amelia and Sam finding him on that scrap yard, from what Cas has told them, he has lost around half a year’s worth of memories. And Dean now has a pretty decent idea of what might have been going down in that time.

(He can’t help but feel stupid for triggering all this just because his cock couldn’t handle the absence of cum. Okay, now that he thinks about it, it really sounds dumb. But that’s completely beside the fucking point.)

Dean doesn’t really know what to say to that, he’s not good at handling emotions, he’s not good at being all considerate and sensitive, that’s more Sam’s area of expertise, but he sure as hell won’t leave Cas alone with this. Still, the only thing he can think of saying is both out of character for him and terribly inadequate.

“I’m sorry Cas.”


	21. Chapter 21

They barely sleep that night. But Dean doesn’t regret that for a second, because they finally took the time to talk through a lot of things. The reason for Dean’s reaction (or rather not-reaction), what they both expect from this relationship, what they want and what they are able to give. It’s exhausting and painful to lay so much of himself out in the open, but if this has any chance of working, they need to build it on trust.

And then finally they talk about what might have happened to Cas, Dean shares his suspicions and Cas listens, a frown creasing his forehead, and he takes everything in stride, like it’s not really a revelation to him. And maybe it isn’t, because Cas isn’t stupid and the signs have been there all along.

Dean isn’t used to talking so openly, and it costs him a lot of effort, but he’s rewarded, because with every passing minute, with every topic they clear, Cas grows more relaxed, leaning closer into Dean, even smiling in that way of his, that isn’t really a smile but just a slight twitch of his lips combined with a warm glimmer in his eyes.

And then they talk about what they’re going to do, because whatever Brady fixed was only temporary, and it didn’t hold against whatever it was that surfaced earlier and as much risk as there might be to it, Cas decides that he wants to take the chance. If he at least knows what happened to him, they can try and fight it - together. And that’s what they’re going to do.

They’re going to find a solution to this, it’s what they do. And Dean won’t leave Cas, no matter what this might unearth. If it were Sam, that’s exactly what he would say to him. No matter how far Dean has to go, or what other favors he might have to call, or even if he has to get his hands dirty again. And that is a scary thought right there, because he has sworn to himself to never do that again, but when it comes to Cas, he has not a doubt in his mind that he would break that vow.

Oh.

There’s no doubt left that he’s fallen hard for Cas. And that thought doesn’t scare him nearly as much as it should.

But that’s alright, because Dean is sure by now that Cas feels something similar, if not the same, and for Dean, that’s enough. This is his first attempt at a serious relationship since forever and he can’t really say that he has much experience to draw from, but this makes him happier than he has been in a long time, and he’s willing to work with that.

Winchesters are stubborn sons of bitches.

So maybe everything will be fine after all.

* * *

 

Sam immediately smells that something’s up. Dean would have preferred to stay in bed a while longer, maybe to catch up on some sleep (unlike Cas he really needs his four hours), but their rest gets rudely interrupted by Sam banging on the door. Something’s wrong with the water boiler, and since Bobby is not home, Dean is the default mechanic for everything.

Dean values his hot showers, so he gets up to take a look, feeling like a horse just ran him over and probably looking the way too, but Cas is smiling again so the all-nighter was definitely worth it. He doesn’t miss however, the inquisitive look Sam shoots him and how his eyebrows draw together in thought as he takes in their appearances. He can almost hear the clicking of the cogwheels turning in Sam’s overgrown head as he pieces together the little details. He’s probably heard a bit of their action last night, and the look on Cas’ face isn’t exactly what one would call worry-free. Sam is good at picking up details. Should have become a lawyer or something.

And there’s going to be another talk, because Dean can already tell that Sam is worried and that he hasn’t forgotten Cas’ ‘situation’, and he really needs some caffeine in his system before yet another emotional wrenching conversation. It’s a good way to start anyway; they’re going to need both Sam and Jess there for support in case something goes wrong.  Which Dean really doesn’t want to think about. Jess can watch over Cas’ status though. That’s a good thing.

This whole thing makes Dean nervous, or maybe it’s the sleep deprivation and the remnants of the tension from last night.

The boiler needs to be decalcified, which doesn’t really come as a surprise, seeing that no one has done that for like five years or something, but that will take a while and Dean needs coffee first. And Cas has priority, he won’t waste time on the stupid boiler while Cas does his memory backup thing. Nice morning shower be damned. Sam’s not pleased but he for all Dean care right now, Sam can suck on a lemon. It’s not his fault that no one bothered to keep track of the stupid out of date boiler.

Who even has boilers these days?

Jess is in the kitchen and Dean goes straight for the - thankfully - filled coffee pot, pouring himself a cup before he flops down on a chair. Cas is already at the table, looking tired, even though he technically doesn’t need sleep and Sam is at the counter glaring daggers at Dean.

“We’re going to do it.” He finally says, because he can’t stand the silence and Jess’ awkward attempts at appearing invisible as she tries to gauge the tension between the two brothers. Cas must have noticed something too, because he looks at Sam like he’s the hardest puzzle he’s ever seen.

“Doing what?” Awesome bitch face right there. Probably an eight.

“Get Cas’ memory cleared up.” Okay double up on the bitch face. Dean didn’t think that was possible. (So does that make it a sixteen now?)

“Dean.” Sam says, a long suffering tone in his voice that he has perfected over the years. “Do you think this is a good idea?”

“Yes Sam, as a matter of fact I do.”

“Dean, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Aren’t we talking right now?” Dean knows that Sam’s asking for a private conversation, but Dean is purposefully obnoxious. Sam only gives him (yet another) bitch face in response and looks pointedly to the door into the living room. “Okay, fine. Don’t break your pretty face.”

“Dean, what the hell are you thinking?” Sam starts the moment the door closes behind them. “And what did you do to Cas?”

“Why do you think I’ve done something to Cas?” Dean immediately goes into the defensive, but Sam gives him one of his don’t-bullshit-me faces (a distant cousin of the bitch-face) and he knows better than to try and deflect that. “It wasn’t on purpose okay. We had some intimate contact and I kind of freaked out and then Cas freaked out and we talked about it. So it’s fine now.”

“You had sex with him?” Sam’s voice is almost loud enough to be heard in the kitchen and Dean quickly gestures for him to be quieter.

“No I hadn’t, not exactly. And since when do you care anyway?” Usually Sam is adamant on _not_ getting to know any details of Dean’s sex life.

“I care because you could have hurt Cas.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Now it’s Dean who raises his voice, but he just can’t believe what Sam is saying. “I would _never_ hurt Cas. What do you think I am, some kind of monster?”

And there it is, Sam’s endlessly patient I-understand-you face, like he actually expected this outburst, and he has of course already an answer. “I didn’t mean it like that. I know you wouldn’t hurt Cas on purpose but you obviously triggered something. You can’t be so reckless.” He sighs exasperatedly. But he has said what he wanted to say, and now it’s time to move on.

Only Dean has to clarify one thing. “Sam, do you really think Cas would let me do anything to him he didn’t want me doing?” He raises an eyebrow pointedly at Sam. That’s all fine and well but Dean won’t apologize for something they both wanted.

It’s not that Dean doesn’t feel guilty, hell he feels terrible, but he doesn’t regret dong it. Because Cas liked it, because he can’t get the sound of Cas’ moans and the sight of his flushed body out of his head. And because no matter the consequences, it wasn’t _wrong_.

Sam’s face softens, only slightly so but now he looks more like a ridiculous large puppy that just took more into its mouth than it could swallow. Strictly metaphorical of course. “Of course not, it’s just… I’m worried okay?”

“I’m worried too. Hell, I didn’t sleep one bit last night, trying to figure out how to help Cas and we finally came to the decision that we need to know what happened. This isn’t just some half assed decision Sam. And that’s why I’m asking you and Jess for help. We’re not going to do this without any backup. So are you in, or not?”

Sam looks for a moment as if he’s going to object, but then his face softens and he smiles. “Of course Dean, whatever you need. I only hope this won’t end badly for you.”

“Yeah, but I’m willing to take that chance, and so is Cas. It won’t get better if we do nothing.”

“Okay. So how are we going to do this?”

“First I’m going to eat something and drink some more coffee, because in case you didn’t notice I haven’t slept last night. And then we’re going to make Cas real comfy and hook him up or whatever it is that he needs.”

“Okay.” Sam nods, and he already has his deep-in-thought-and-hatching-out-a-plan face on, which is a good sign probably, because it means that Sam is a hundred percent in. And there is nothing they can’t do between the two of them. “We can tell Jess over breakfast.”

Jess has somehow conjured a plate filled with sausages and bacon, a whole mountain of it, and she and Cas are feasting from it. Okay, Jess is, while Cas nibbles on a piece of bacon and keeps nursing his coffee. “You shouldn’t overdo it with the coffee you know. It could have a similar effect to alcohol.” Jess cautions, and Cas throws a dejected glance at his cup, before he puts it down again.

They both look up when the brothers reenter, and it’s striking how equal the smile on both Jess and Cas’ faces is when they lay eyes on their significant others. And for a moment Dean is stunned, because he has deeply accepted the fact that Jess is in love with his Sasquatch of a brother, those two are perfect for each other, and he _knew_ that Cas felt something for him - but to see it, obvious like this, a perfect mirror of Jess’ happy smile, is something else entirely.

Now is probably not the right time to think inappropriate thoughts though.

“Hey you can always try decaff.” Sam suggests and both Jess and Dean snort in unison.

“Yeah, he can also drink sewer water. Decaff tastes like piss.”

“Okay that’s enough. No more decaff bashing or I’ll tell you where caffeine comes from.” Jess threatens with a soft expression around her eyes.

“I doubt anyone would stop drinking caffeine, no matter what horror stories you’ll tell them.” Sam pecks a kiss on Jess temple and slides down next to her. It’s kind of a strange transition from their earnest talk, but things like this shouldn’t be discussed all gloomy and negative anyway.

“Caffeine is an alkaloid produced by coffee plants as a pesticide.” Cas supplies helpfully and at least Sam looks sick for a second.

“Okay I really didn’t need to hear that I’ve been drinking pesticide for the past few years.” Sam gives his cup (the one he just poured himself) the same dejected look Cas gave his earlier and puts it down next to the sink. Jess just shrugs.

“Same goes for nicotine.”

“Okay that’s enough. We gotta stay on topic here.” Dean intervenes, because he really doesn’t want to know what else might be some weird plant-pesticide. Even though it probably isn’t half as bad as it sounds, it still reminds him of gooey green paste or some shit like that. But since both Jess and Cas don’t seem perturbed by the uncovered nature of caffeine it is probably not so bad.

Jess’ breakfast is delicious, even though that’s not what Dean’s main focus lies on as he and Sam explain to Jess what they’re about to do. And then Cas explains, with little help from Sam, how the procedure is going to work, and what they’ll have to do to support him. It doesn’t sound as complicated, but Cas is going to do the main part – while Sam is going to make sure that no data gets lost. And Jess will monitor Cas’ vitals, not that she expects much to happen, but it’s better to take all possible precautions.

“What better way to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon.” Dean comments dryly, but all that earns him is an eye roll from Sam. He’s not going to fool anyone with his bravado this time. And he can’t really help it, he’s nervous and on edge, because Sam has made a point out of listing all the possible ways this could go wrong. And Cas looks paler than usual, as if he’s just now realizing the dangers of his idea.

“It will be fine.” Usually Dean is not a fan of unfounded optimism, but Jess says it with so much sincerity and a heartwarming smile that Dean can’t really say anything against it. And she isn’t totally wrong either, a bit of optimism can’t hurt. God knows they’ll need it.

“You heard that Cas? It’ll be fine and you’re up and kicking in no time.” And it’s his job to support and comfort Cas, isn’t it? Even if it’s false bravado, he can at least do this much for him.

Cas stays quiet while they clear up the breakfast dishes, Dean doesn’t say anything too, only Jess and Sam talk quietly but to Dean it’s just a quiet background noise. He’s too focused on Cas and assuring him in every possible way, without actually saying a word. The situation is strangely familiar, he had years to perfect this form of silent comfort. He used to do that for Sammy a lot, way back when their father had one of his episodes. And just as Sam did so many years ago, Cas slowly relaxes into the reassuring pressure of Dean’s hand on the small of his back. He even closes his eyes for a moment when Dean starts rubbing his thumb in small circles.

“I’m going to call Chuck and ask if there’s any advice he can give me.” Sam says as he puts the last of the dried plates up into the cabinets.

“Okay. Come on Cas, let’s get you comfy.” He exerts soft pressure on Cas’ back to lead him into the living room. Jess follows closely behind with a canteen of ice water and one of the dish towels.

“I’ll get my emergency equipment from the car.” She puts the water and the towel down before she walks out. She started to carry a bag with some medical equipment in her car, after a certain incident involving a heat stroke, a dog bite, premature labor and one blouse ruined by blood stains. It wasn’t pretty; and ever since then, Jess prefers to be ready for anything.

(And apparently a lot of things can be avoided with the right antibiotics. Whatever the hell that means.)

Dean fluffs up the pillows and puts them down around Cas, so that he’s comfortably encased. Cas looks slightly confused, like he’s not used to being fussed over. It’s kind of adorable but also a little sad. Cas certainly didn’t get fussed over a lot in his time. But that’s just how it goes sometimes. Dean sits down next to him.

“Hey.” He says, admittedly a bit lamely. And it comes to him, in that moment, that they’ve done something similar already. Back when they had to charge up Cas’ battery or when Jess had to exchange his electrolyte. It’s similar and yet it’s different, because this, they don’t necessarily have to do, they could always try and manually delete the affected memories (risking losing all memories in the process), or they could even leave it as it was and Dean simply would have to behave himself (Yeah, as if). Point is, they have a choice in this.

Or maybe they haven’t.

But it’s still the same in how Cas’ hand inevitably finds Dean’s and they just hold on to each other as they await Jess’ return. Sam comes in, carrying a frown that could mean anything from ‘I have a great idea’ to ‘I just heard the worst news ever and have no idea how to break it to yoi, but Dean has grown up with Sam and he has learned to read the fine differences, the minute details that distinguish one from the other. This one is an ‘I’m in deep thought and might just have the best idea of my life’ face.

“So listen, Chuck said it’s possible to clear up the error that’s clogging Cas’ memories, so we don’t have to extract them from the core. He’s mailing me a program right now, along with the instructions.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” Dean feels a stiffness recede from his shoulders, he wasn’t aware was there. He doesn’t really understand what the specifics are or how this is supposed to work exactly, but he only needs to look at Sam’s beaming smile to know that things will be alright. Sam has only worked with the guy for a short time, but what he’s heard so far about this Chuck guy, was mostly positive. Except for some questionable fashion and hygiene choices apparently.

Jess returns and sets up her stuff, while Sam goes off to get his laptop and for a while they sit undisturbed on the couch. The hand in his is cool but the press of his fingers is steady and there is a soft glint in Cas’ eyes as he keeps his gaze on Dean. A smile only in his eyes.

All this talking about trust, they’ve been back and forth with that, and it still hasn’t really settled with Dean that Cas trusts him, completely and without a single doubt. But looking into his eyes now he can finally believe it, down to the bottom of his heart. (And he’s drowning in those eyes that seem to have a language of their own.)

The next minutes are filled with a flurry of activity. Cas’ clothes haven’t yet been washed and s he wears another set of Dean’s clothes, and it doesn’t take long to divest him of the shirt. Jess hooks him to some instruments, one of those portable pulse meters or whatever they’re called, a thing for blood pressure and a few other things Dean can’t really put a name to.

“I’ve noticed something when I checked up Cas after the electrolyte exchange. I did some reading up on the artificial heartbeat but couldn’t find anything until Sam got me some blueprints from Mr. Shurley. Well Sam is not really interested in this stuff, but I thought it was pretty neat.” Jess throws a fond smile to where Sam is sitting in Bobby’s chair, typing away on his laptop, oblivious to what’s going on around him.

Dean doesn’t exactly know where this is going but Cas seems interested enough so he settles in for listening.

“So far I was under the impression that bots were pretty much mechanical with a synthesized biological outside, but it turns out you guys are stuffed full with organs. They’re not exactly clear on that in the ads, they just throw the word lifelike around a lot. I mean it _is_ logical, how else could you be able to digest, and the body temperature, and all the other things.”

“Okay, wait for a second there.” Dean holds up a hand. “I’m not sure I got everything right, but if you say what I think you’re saying, that means that Cas is stuffed full with organs like humans? Does that even work? And how did he get alcohol poisoning?”

“Well Cas is an early prototype of that model, seems like he has some kind of hybrid-machine-organs.”

“Now, that just sounds wrong.”

“Yeah it sure does.” Jess smiles and pats a hand on Cas’ knee. “But don’t worry, you’re fine. Basically you’re just like a human with better hardware. Well and no alcohol tolerance. And a redundancy of wires, and okay, you’re not really like a human, but pretty close I suppose.” Jess rubs a hand over the side of her neck, looking almost sheepishly. “I don’t really get all the mechanical details on the blueprints, but at least half of you is organic Cas.”

Dean can’t decide if that sounds better or actually worse.

“I presume that’s a good thing?” Cas frowns, looking from Jess to Dean.

“Of course it is.” Dean leans in to kiss Cas. “I didn’t really understand half of it, but it sounded good to me.” Yeah, good is always better.

“Oh I think it’s a good thing, you’re more like we are Cas, you’re like Dean.”

It’s like someone has switched on a light behind Cas’ eyes. He looks at Dean, smiling, eyes bright with so many emotions, joy and happiness, and something else Dean refuses to acknowledge, because it just can’t be. But he can’t dwell on it, because Cas pulls him in for another kiss, deep and slow, and Dean is content with just settling his hands on Cas’ sides.  

“Okay, I think I got it.” Sam takes another look at his screen, before putting the laptop down on the coffee table. “Chuck wrote me a program that should do all the work for us, but we should keep an eye out on his vitals, since Chuck said they were a good sign for something wrong with the brain. But it should lower the risk of accidentally deleting something.”

“I hope this Chuck knows his business.” Dean sits back against the couch, one hand wrapped around Cas’ softly squeezing in a gesture of comfort. “How long will it take?”

Sam shrugs and unplugs an USB-drive, tapping it against his knuckles. “Not long according to Chuck, but we’ll have to reboot afterwards, and that can take some time.”

“Well, we better find out then. You ready Cas?” Dean can’t exactly say that he feels good about the whole thing, as good as he is with mechanics and tinkering, he’s at a total loss when it comes to software, and it pisses him off to no end that he doesn’t even understand the problem. He feels so helpless, and that is a feeling that Dean really doesn’t like. Thankfully he can trust Sam on that.

“Yes.” Cas nods, but there is a hint of nervousness, and Dean scoots a bit closer, doing the only thing he can do right, giving Cas comfort.

“Okay Cas. This won’t take long and you won’t feel the effects until after the reboot, and you should be aware that it could be pretty bad. I don’t know what you forgot or what caused the error, but it could be very painful to uncover.”

“I know Sam, but I want to do this. I’m ready.”

Jess checks her instruments and gives Sam a thumbs up, and then it’s time for the truth. Cas turns around on the couch, side to the backrest and Dean sits on the edge of the couch, holding on to Cas’ hand. It’s not exactly comfortable, but Sam needs access to Cas’ panels and Dean won’t leave him. Dean watches as Sam pops open Cas’ control panel, pressing a few buttons before he inserts the plug. “Okay and go.”

Cas tenses in Dean’s arms, eyes wide and unblinking, but neither Jess nor Sam seem perturbed so Dean figures that is normal. Still, he wishes he would know what is going on, what exactly it is that’s happening right now in Cas’ head. Sam keeps pressing buttons, frowning and gnawing on his tongue, a thing he only does when he’s in really deep thought. Jess measures Cas’ blood pressure, and keeps checking his pulse, but whatever happens doesn’t seem to affect Cas’ body, and according to what Sam’s said earlier, that’s a good thing.  

“Okay, that’s it.” Sam pulls out the USB-plug and puts it on the table. Cas doesn’t give any indication that something happened and Sam keeps pressing on buttons. “Okay, shutting him down is pretty complicated, and booting is not much better, so this will take a while.” Sam types in the command for the maintenance panel to open and starts fiddling again.

“I’ll stay.” Dean says and Sam is wise enough not to argue. But his lack of knowledge is like an itch under his skin, and there is something that’s been bugging him ever since Jess mentioned that Cas apparently had organs. “How does that even work? I mean Cas is half human, you can’t just shut down a human.”

“Yeah, but that’s exactly why it’s so complicated. It’s kind of like an induced coma, for the organ part at least, and if you don’t do it correctly you can damage something.”

“Wow, now I feel reassured.”

“Don’t worry, it’s close to impossible to do it wrong, they are like a ton of safety programs that prevent you from doing something dumb. Besides, Chuck told me that the newest models from Cas’ lines don’t need to shut down at all, and they can operate completely without a charger, they have to eat though.”

“Well, good for them.”

Sam just throws him a bitch-face. 

“Don’t worry Dean. Cas will be alright. I’ve seen a few reboots in my time and nothing has ever gone wrong.” Jess’ smile is reassuring and Dean appreciates it, but he doesn’t really feel better. Not until Cas is back with them.

A jolt goes through Cas and then he slumps against Dean, muscles all loose, and Dean was right, that _is_ damn creepy. Sam isn’t worried, and neither is Jess, but Dean can’t get the feeling of nausea out of his system. He keeps watching as Sam is working with the maintenance panel, rearranging wires and pressing buttons, Jess looking over his shoulder. It makes him uneasy, he’s not used to being helpless He gets twitchier and more on edge with every second that passes, until Sam has enough and kicks him out of the room, promising to call him as soon as the reboot is complete.

Since he’s got nothing better to do, Dean busies himself with setting up the washing machine, to finally clean Cas’ clothes. Only then he remembers that there’s a boiler that needs repairing and so he goes off to do that.

It’s Jess that comes to get him, and he’s both relieved and anxious to get back to Cas. Sam is finishing whatever the hell it is he’s doing, pushing the lid to the maintenance panel shut. He takes the pencil he used to pop open the control panel and unceremoniously sticks it in Cas’ other ear, twisting it, while pressing buttons simultaneously. Another jolt runs through Cas’ body, and there is a soft hum in the air for a moment. His skin is warm to the touch and his eyes flutter but stay closed otherwise.

The relief Dean feels when Cas finally opens his eyes is immense, but it fades almost instantly when he sees the expression in them. There’s pain in them, but worse, there is no recognition when he looks at Dean. Only pain, and a fierce form of anger, saturated by fear, as if he’s expecting something bad to happen any second now.

“Cas, are you okay?” Dean reaches out but Cas immediately flinches back, growling a warning, but there is also panic in his eyes now, the look of a cornered animal. “Cas, it’s me. Dean.” Cas has retreated fully against the back of the couch, arms crossed in front of his torso, knees pulled up to his chest.

“Don’t touch me.” He growls, but he’s not looking at Dean, he’s looking at something, someone else, and Dean has a sick suspicion as to what is happening in Cas’ mind right now.

“Cas, please. Look at me. I would never hurt you.” Sam and Jess have retreated to give them space, but Dean can physically feel their worried eyes on him. He wants nothing more but to touch Cas, to reassure him, but he has to hold back, because right now everything could spook him. But his words finally seem to take effect, Cas blinks and then frowns, the anger and fear gone, but the tension remains in his body.

“Dean?” He looks up and squints at Dean, and Dean gives him the time to riddle through whatever it is that puzzles him. “That was unpleasant.” Cas finally says, but there’s a smile on his lips, soft, almost hesitant, but a smile nonetheless.

“Welcome back Cas.” Dean carefully extends his arms and Cas allows him to pull him into a hug. “How do you feel?”

Cas frowns again, looking down at his body, as if the answer to Dean’s question is somewhere hidden there. “I’m not sure. I feel different.”

“Is the error still there?” Sam asks, worry clearly evident in his voice.

“No, not as far as I can tell.”

“So it worked?”

“Yes, my memories are completely restored.”

“You okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. The transition was a bit rough and I had difficulties differentiating myself from the memories, but I have it under control now.”

“You sure?”

Cas smiles, but Dean can’t do anything against the anxiety he’s still feeling. He can’t get the image of Cas panicking out of his mind, the anger and the hurt in his eyes. He never wants to see that again. “Yes Dean, I am fine.” And there is really only thing Dean can say to that. He carefully moves into Cas’ personal space, eyeing him carefully for a negative reaction, but when none comes, he just goes for it, pressing his lips against Cas, letting it linger there, until he’s sure that Cas really is alright.

Sam and Jess move in to hug Cas next, both ignoring the fact that Cas is still naked from the waist upwards, a fact that Dean hesitantly remedies by shoving his shirt at Cas. He loves to see Cas naked, but right now is not the moment for bedroom thoughts.

“Do you mind telling us what happened?” Sam asks, ever the curious one. Dean is about to tell him off, he’s the first one to tell anyone that prying in unhappy memories is a no go, but Cas beats him to it.

“I’d like that yes.”


	22. Chapter 22

Cas’ voice is strangely indifferent, a stark contrast to the story he’s telling. It’s like he’s recounting the story of someone else, like what happened didn’t really affect him. Dean doesn’t like it; he’s too familiar with that technique, sectioning off parts of you, shoving them somewhere where they can’t hurt you. He has done that way too often himself.

But right now there’s nothing he can do but listen.

“I was bought by a man who owned what you would call a strip club. I wasn’t really interested in what was going on at the time, my internal system was in bad shape after the mishap with the system’s check-up. They brought me to what they called a specialist; I don’t know exactly what he did but he seemed to have repaired the damage to my core, but he must have done something else, because afterwards my emotions were cut off. They were still there, but I couldn’t access them.”

“The emotions jammer.” Sam exclaims, earning a reprimanding look from both Jess and Dean. “Sorry. Please Cas, continue.”

“It’s okay Sam. There were others there like me, but I was different. They didn’t care what happened to them, but I did. I didn’t feel emotions, but they were still there. I don’t know how to properly describe it. It was like I was two different persons. One felt the pain but could only watch, the other didn’t feel anything but knew of the other’s pain.

“I was put through ‘training’, and at first it didn’t seem so bad. I already had various dancing skills programmed into me, and at first I didn’t have to do more than use my dance skills to entice customers. I didn’t really understand why I had to do this, but I didn’t know what else to do so I obeyed.”

With every word he hears, the sick feeling in Dean’s gut gets worse. Cas has an odd view on things, but Dean understands enough to know what he’s referring to. He never once in his life wanted to hurt someone so badly, like he wants now. He wants to hunt the people down who did this to Cas, who dared to lay their hands on him. It’s primal, a wrath so deep it almost scares him.

“They used to touch me, the people who came to watch. The other me didn’t like it, but I didn’t care, until…” Cas looks sad for a moment, and Dean’s heart squeezes painfully in his chest. The mask is slipping and Dean reaches out to take his hand that had slipped from his grasp earlier. Cas doesn’t acknowledge the gesture but his voice grows steadier again.

“One day I was ordered to service a client in one of the backrooms. I thought I was to give him a ‘private dance’ as the others had been asked to do before me, but I wasn’t aware of what this dance entailed. I tried to fight back, I could feel the other’s rage and panic, and I thought I had to do something, because the other me was me too. I tried to protect him, me. The man shouted for help and then other men came and they held me down, while he…” Castiel swallows, “did things to me.

“It hurt, I never thought something could hurt this much, I couldn’t even move because of the pain. The next day they brought me to their specialist again, and he did something to me again. After that I could no longer fight back, I don’t know how, but they had a remote and whenever they used it I could no longer move. But I could still feel everything. I thought I was going crazy by that time, there were days when I was in a daze, I barely noticed what happened to me and there were other days when I could feel everything with crystal clarity. Those were the worst, because then it was almost as if _I_ was the one with the emotions, not the other me.

“The emotions became stronger with time, or maybe the barrier just became weaker, and I tried to fight back again. The owner threatened me with physical punishment, and I knew I should avoid that, but it wasn’t even me who was afraid. I couldn’t really bring myself to care. At the same time I was desperate for a way out, it was a paradox and it put a lot of strain on my system. They didn’t want to leave any marks on me, but there are other ways to hurt someone, and I learned a lot of them.”

Jess abruptly stands up and leaves the room, but Dean catches a glimpse of red eyes. He exchanges a glance with Sam, but Jess calls from the kitchen: “I’m fine, I just can’t listen anymore without crying.” There’s a sniffle in her voice, but she sounds firm, leaving more out of respect than because she can’t handle it. “Please, continue.”

Cas hasn’t looked up for a while now, he’s speaking to his knees, but the mask of indifference is long gone. It’s all he can do to keep his voice steady, and Dan can feel the tremble in his hands. Still, he continues.

“One day I broke through the control, I don’t know how I did it, I just know that I felt my own emotions for the first time in a long while. It wasn’t pleasant but I managed to throw off my assailant. I don’t know what happened then, but there was a sharp pain in my neck and I blacked out. I remember lying on a flat surface on my stomach and someone working on my control panel.

“The next thing I remember is waking up in an unknown place, my senses dulled an unable to move and with no recollection of the last six months. I don’t know how long I laid there until Sam found me.”

Dean feels sick. Not just because of what happened to Cas, but because he has a suspicion that has his stomach roiling with fury. He has never been involved in that certain branch, but he knows for a fact that Alastair owns a few of what Cas’ described strip clubs. They would be better described as whorehouses that cater to people with ‘special interests’.

And it fits Alastair to the tee to torture his assets into doing his bidding. Dean has been there, both on the receiving and dealing end of the stick. He knows what it does to people. And he knows Alastair.

This can’t be a coincidence.

He wishes it were, but there’s close to no chance for coincidence when Alastair is involved.

It makes him beyond angry, and at the same time he feels like drowning his anger and all the pain in alcohol again, like he hasn’t done in a long time.

And he can do none of that, because Cas needs him, and Dean has already done enough damage, he doesn’t get to sulk or to throw a tantrum. He needs to get his shit together, it’s Cas that needs the support now, and Dean better make sure he gets it.

Cas is trembling, eyes wide and he’s seeing something that’s not there again. It’s silent, except for the sounds of Jess bustling in the kitchen, and both Sam and Dean don’t know what to do for a moment. Dean’s mind is still reeling and his mind is conjuring unbidden images from his time with Alastair, and he keeps imaging Cas in them. Cas bloodied and bruised, chained to a wall; Cas screaming and sobbing, Cas begging for mercy, and it’s almost enough to make him throw up. And Dean knows that what Cas has been through is even worse, because he wasn’t tortured for information, he was tortured for punishment, and that equals fun for Alastair.

He chooses his men accordingly.

He almost can’t bear the thought of what he did to Cas not so long ago. He had known that something had happened to Cas, he even had a hunch on what exactly it could have been, but still he had ignored his worries and indulged in his own carnal pleasure. He doesn’t even want to think about how it must be for Cas, knowing what he’s been through and Dean has nothing better to do than going down on him.

It makes him sick, but he has to keep it together, for Cas’ sake if nothing else. Dean forces every unnecessary thought back, pushes the memories into a box in his mind and slams the lid shut, shoving it as deep down as possible. It’s what he’s best after all, it’s what his father taught him best, ignore everything that isn’t important, ignore the pain and be strong, because Sammy needs you. _Take care of Sammy_. Only now it’s Cas, but it’s all just the same.

“Cas.” He hates how his own voice almost betrays him, but he can’t let that stop him now. “Look at me, Cas.” He lifts his hand to rest it on Cas’ cheek, rubbing a thumb over the skin in a soothing manner. “You’re safe; no one’s going to hurt you.” He shouldn’t be the one to say those words, he’s the last person to promise anyone safety, but it’s what Cas needs and Dean will give everything he has to help Cas.

“I’m sorry, I still have difficulties with differentiating myself from the memories.” Cas smiles, but it’s forced and tears right into Dean’s heart.

“No, don’t apologize Cas.” Sam assures. “Is there anything we can do for you?”

“I’m fine.” Cas insists, but Dean pulls him in for a hug anyway and it seems to be the right thing to do, because Cas instantly relaxes, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist. Dean exchanges a look with Sam, both sharing the same concern, because if one thing’s obvious, is that Cas is not fine. Sam is usually better at these things than Dean is, but he seems as clueless as his brother.

Jess walks back in, carrying a steaming cup of something, and god bless her, for her intuition. “I made you a cup of hot chocolate.” She announces and before Cas or anyone for that matter can get the ridiculous idea in their head to object, she has already put the thing in Cas’ hand. “Now drink, and then listen.” She says firmly and sits down on his other side.

“Now listen to me. You are not fine Castiel. And there is nothing wrong with that. You have been through a lot, and even though I am not a psychologist, I know that things like that need time and effort.” She leans forward to put a hand on Cas’, where it is still wrapped up in Dean’s grip. Dean feels immense gratitude for her at this moment; she seems to know exactly what to say.

“I can’t say how it will be for you, because you are a bot, but I can tell you that it won’t be easy and you’ll have bad days and sometimes you just want it all to end, and it will seem as if there’s no end in sight, but you should know that we’re here for you, and we will help you through it. I can only speak for myself, but I’m pretty sure that Sam and Dean think the same.”

“Thank you Jess.” Cas looks tired and exhausted, but at least this time his smile is a bit more genuine.

“I know I made it sound like it’s all bad, but that is not true. There will be good days, and it will get better and you’ll be fine, I promise.”

“And if you ever need someone to talk to, we’ll be here.” Sam adds, throwing in his big ol’ puppy eyes and Dean can finally feel Cas relax. Dean isn’t entirely sure what just transpired, aside from Jess giving an emotional pep talk (Dean gracefully decides not to call it girly), and even though he’s grateful that it apparently helped Cas, he doesn’t like at all what it proposes for the future. He doesn’t want Cas to suffer, and he would do about anything to make it go away.

But he can’t, so he does the only thing he can right now.

“It’s alright Cas. We’ll do this, together. I promise.” He takes the now empty cp out of Cas’ hand and puts it down on the coffee table, before he pulls Cas in for a hug. Cas just sags against him, allows Dean to hold him for a moment before he wraps his arms around Dean, pulling him as close as physically possible. He just hopes that Cas understands what he’s trying to convey with his body, because Dean has never been good with words, and this is the only way he can say it.

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas whispers and Dean closes his eyes as he fights off the emotions that threaten to surface again. He wants to hurt someone, preferably those assholes who dared to lay a hand on Cas, but at the same time he knows he’s powerless, because it’s Alastair’s gang and no one fucks with Alastair’s gang and lives to tell the tale. But he just has to think of the face Cas made when he remembered and he feels very tempted to try it anyway. He’s sure he could do some serious damage before he would go down.

But he can’t do that. He won’t throw his life away, not when he finally has something worth living for. It’s a new thought, he’s used to regarding his own life and happiness as expendable, he’s not important, Sam is important, the people that now make up his family are important, and making sacrifices for them has become second nature to him. He would die for Sammy, there is not a single doubt about that, but for the first time it feels like his life doesn’t only belong to him.

He has Cas now, and he wants to live and explore every little thing that there is to discover about him. He wants to do things for himself, for Cas, show him things, be shown things and more than anything he wants this to be good. He doesn’t want to screw it up; he doesn’t want to be a disappointment like he had been for Cassie and everyone else so far. So he will swallow down his anger and just be there for Cas, because that’s what he needs right now.

* * *

 

There’s only one piece of advice that Jess can actually give him, and that is to be patient. She doesn’t know how much Cas will be affected by his memories, seeing that he’s able to physically compartmentalize, it might not even affect him at all. And if it affects him, there is no telling in how it will do so. He’s not human, he doesn’t have a brain with neurotransmitters and hormones, scientifically there is no reason for him to have any reaction at all, but there is so much Jess doesn’t know that she’s reluctant to say anything definite.

Just be patient.

Cas is pretty much his usual self, as far as Dean can tell, he hasn’t shown any more signs of trauma, and both Chuck and Sam suspect that Cas has successfully stored the memories in another partition than his other data – a literary compartmentalization. But Chuck advises to be careful anyway and keep an eye out for anything that could hint at something wrong. Cas isn’t human, but he also isn’t a machine, and according to Chuck he already has evolved beyond what was intended for his line – whatever the hell that means.

It’s a few days later and Cas has just come from a check-up with Sam and Chuck and according them, everything seems to be fine. The data error is repaired and he’s perfectly functional again. Although, for some unknown reason, Cas still is a bit flunky on the whole common sense thing, there are apparently still irregularities in his system protocol, but according to Chuck it’s nothing bad and since it contributes to his personality he just left it as it was.

Dean has just finished his shift at the garage and is in the dire need of a shower, but he steps in the living room to listen to Sam’s status report anyway. Cas is sitting on the coach, listening patiently while Sam recaps. He seems fine, but Dean has been reluctant to do more than touch him superficially, he can’t forget what Cas told them, and he feels like a rapist every time he even thinks of doing more. Cas had tried to kiss him a few times, but Dean had always pulled back and he would be lying to say it hasn’t affected their relationship.

He can feel Cas eyes on him now, but he doesn’t really know what to do about it. He wants to be patient and give Cas his time, but he also wants to hug and kiss him, make him feel better physically, but that very same thought makes him sick to his stomach. He can’t do _that_ to Cas, not after he has been raped countless time. And he knows that he hasn’t really talked to Cas ever since the incident, but every time he tries, all he can think of is what he’s done and how easy it would have been for Cas to end up under Dean’s knife, if he had been there just a few years earlier.

It doesn’t matter that it wasn’t Dean, it could as well have been him, and that makes him just as guilty. And he’s so fucked up and all his resolve is shit, just like he is, and he can already see everything fall apart and maybe it is better to give up now, before he hurts Cas even more-

“Dean, you should talk to him.” Sam whispers under his breath, and it’s remarkable how much of a snappish tone he manages while whispering. They’re in the kitchen again, Sam dragged him out to talk to him, and it’s obvious that he is more than pissed. “I know you try to be sensitive and everything, but seriously? He’s miserable. He thinks you no longer want him.”

Shit.  

Of course that’s the conclusion Cas comes to, and Dean the giant asshat that he is, hadn’t thought of that. Way to go there Winchester. It’s really pathetic actually, just because Dean can’t handle it, he thinks he has the right to panic and make Cas even more miserable, just because can’t handle a bit of stress. He only thinks of himself, that’s the whole problem. It’s not about him and how he feels about it, it’s about Cas and he should at least have the grace to wait until Cas decides he no longer wants him, before he runs away.   

“I really am an idiot, aren’t I?”

“You think?” Sam asks dryly and rolls his eyes. “I don’t care, just go in there and tell him how you feel, or I swear to god, I’ll make you. And don’t give me any of that chick-flick bullshit, it’s Cas and I will personally set your car on fire if you screw this up because you think you have to defend your manliness.”

It’s almost a shock to see how furious Sam is, it’s enough to knock the anger out of him about Sam threatening his baby. He looks back to the couch where Cas sits, and now it’s obvious how much his shoulders slump and how dejected his head hangs. And he doesn’t even see his face. God, he’s such a fucking coward, he doesn’t deserve Cas at all, but for some inexplicable reason Cas wants him, and he better be damn grateful for that.

“Okay.” Dean concedes. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Don’t screw this up.” Sam repeats, giving him the queen of all bitch-faces, but there is worry underneath and Dean has to look away. “I’m serious Dean. This is not just because of Cas, but also for you. Cas is good for you, I haven’t seen you this happy and open with someone since… well since ever. And I know you. You’re likely to screw this up and then you’re going to sulk and wallow in self pity and everything is misery and you’ll go off on another road trip you won’t tell me any details about, and when that happens, I can guarantee you I won’t be the only one to kick your ass.”

Dean glares at Sam, but his brother refuses to back down, but now he’s giving him the puppy eyes rather than the bitch-face, and that’s basically the best way to show how serious he is.

“I won’t screw this up. You’re right Cas is important to me, and I shouldn’t need you to tell me that.“

Sam nods and Dean takes that as his cue to go and make things alright with Cas, but Sam’s hand stops him. “Dean, it’s not your fault. You couldn’t know what happened to him and I’m sure he wouldn’t have let you done it if he didn’t want it too.”

Dean swallows down the lump that has formed in his throat at Sam’s words. Sam might be right about that, and he knows that Cas wanted it, he’s told him as much, but he still feels bad about it. And that doesn’t change that he used to work for Alastair, that he _willingly_ worked for Alastair, the same man who’s most likely responsible for what happened to Cas. He should be down on his knees and beg for forgiveness; actually he should have done that a long time ago.

“Just make sure he’s fine.” Sam looks over to where Cas is still patiently sitting, before he goes over to where Zeppelin is busy cleaning the kitchen floor, picking him up and leaving the two of them to their own devices. Dean takes a deep breath and walks back into the living room. He won’t screw this up, not this time.

Cas looks up, and Dean’s step almost falters when he sees the careful hope in Cas’ eyes. It’s deliberate, as if he has picked something up from their conversation, but it’s guarded, like he doesn’t trust this new development, worse, like he doesn’t trust Dean.

But that’s his own fault.

Dean sits down, close enough that their knees touch but far enough apart to give Cas some space. And that’s it, he’s there, he’s ready, but he has absolutely no idea how to start. He sucks at these kinds of things; a lifetime of avoidance has left him ill-equipped when it comes to the reality of his emotions. Sam’s words swirl through his mind, ‘tell him how you feel’.

Since when has that ever been a good idea?

“Cas…” He tries and trails off again. How come, Sam can do these things with so much ease? He just throws on his puppy eyes and starts asking uncomfortable questions, never seeming uncomfortable himself.

“Dean?” Cas is confused again, squinting at Dean and somehow the familiar expression eases some of the pressure he feels.

“Damn it Cas.” He says, but there is fondness in his voice and he rests his hand on Cas’ thigh. “Do you have any idea of the effect you have on me?”

Cas tilts his head, looking at Dean quizzically, picking through what Dean has said and inevitably coming off with a blank. “I wasn’t aware of any effect I have on you?” He frowns again, taking in the small grin on Dean’s lips and his face lights up. “I have an effect on you?” He smiles, it’s small and gleaming with satisfaction.

“Yes Cas, you have an effect on me, and believe me when I say it’s the best possible effect anyone ever had on me. You make me crazy, I can’t stop thinking about you, and just being near you makes me, well it makes me happy.” And it wasn’t nearly as hard as he thought it would be to admit that out loud.   

There’s no reply, Cas just looks at him, mouth open as if he’s stuck in the middle of a reply that never comes. But then he slowly settles into a smile, tentative maybe, but again with that certain hint of satisfaction.

“Look Cas, I wasn’t lying when I said I suck at these things. I have a hard time talking about my feelings and I probably say a lot of dumb shit while I’m at it, but if I don’t say this now I’ll have to compete with Sam for the right to kick my ass.” Cas just raises an eyebrow, undoubtedly questioning his sanity and Dean takes another deep breath before he carries on.

“I’m sorry Cas. I’m sorry for kind of ignoring you through the last few days. I didn’t even realize that I was giving you the wrong impression, hadn’t Sam told me, so that obviously makes me very shitty boyfriend material, and I actually have no idea where I was going with this sentence, so…”

“Dean, I’m not sure if I can quite follow what you’re trying to say, but you don’t have to apologize. I have talked at lengths to Jess, and she has explained to me how difficult it is for humans to handle experiences such as mine. I can understand that this is hard for you, but for me nothing has changed. I might experience some bad days, like Jess has so kindly explained, but I am still me.”

“I know that. It’s not that I don’t trust you, I trust you Cas, I really do. But I have done some pretty bad things in my time, really bad things and I can’t just overlook what happened to you.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. I already know that you have things in your past you don’t like to disclose, but I don’t know what that has to do with our situation. And I won’t believe for a second that you have ever raped someone.”

“God no, of course I didn’t. But Cas, that doesn’t change that it could have been me. The punishments you described? That’s what I used to do, among other things. The man I worked for? He’s worse than the devil, he gets off on shit like that, torturing, drugs, human trafficking and prostitution. _And I was his second in command._ ”

There, it’s out, and even though Dean’s heart is trying to hammer out if his chest, even though he’s covered in cold sweat, he feels better, having finally confessed this dark part of his past. It has been weighing down on his conscience for so long not that it feels surreal now that it’s out.

But the relief is only short-lived, because now Cas knows, and there is no way he’ll ever forgive Dean. How could he, if Dean can’t even forgive himself. And it doesn’t help that he has kept this a secret for so long.

“I’m sorry Cas.” His voice sounds hoarse and he can already feel the burn of tears behind his eyelids. But he doesn’t care about that, because Cas is going to hate him for this, and he’s not sure he can handle living without Cas. It’s a joke really, he should be used to losing the people he cares about, it’s happened to him too often now, and it has no right to hurt this much. And now he’s crying.

Fuck, he’s such a pathetic bastard.

Cas still hasn’t said anything, and his face doesn’t even give a hint on what he’s thinking. He keeps staring at Dean, but other than that, there is no reaction.

“It was the worst time of my life. Sam had just left and Dad was constantly drunk and I just wanted to get away, so I left. I didn’t come far though, just a few towns over and then I ran into some trouble in a bar and I apparently impressed a few people beating them up and since I didn’t really care at the time, I kind of ended up in Alastair’s gang.” Dean speaks to his feet, but he can feel Cas’ piercing eyes against the side of his face.

“I’m not trying to make excuses for what I did; I just want you to understand why I did it.” Dean swallows around the lump in his throat, feeling sick to his stomach, but he knows he has to go on. Cas hasn’t said anything, but he’s still here, that has to mean at least something. He rarely cries, but if he does, he always has this one stupid single tear and a lot of moisture in his eyes.

Fuck. He shouldn’t have stopped talking, because now he can’t pick up the thread, the words just stay stuck in his throat. He doesn’t expect the hand on his thigh, but when he looks up there is Cas, he isn’t smiling, but there is no hate in his eyes, no judgment, just endless patience and reassurance.

“It’s okay, Dean.”

He really, really, really doesn’t deserve Cas. But it gives him the confidence to continue with his story. “I was a grunt a t first, but I excelled at it.” He snorts derisively, thinking of all the praise he got, praise he desperately craved, a fact he hadn’t realized up until that point. But at that time he had lived for that praise, done some messed up things just to get attention. “I doubt my father ever expected me to put all his good training to that bad of a use. I rose quickly through the ranks, went from a grunt to Alastair’s favorite in record time. Got me a lot of hate too. But Alastair liked me and that made me untouchable.

“He had this religious cult thing going, kept saying he needs to cleanse the world of all evil and that we were all his chosen few to support his holy cause. Of course, it was all a great sham to pull in new followers, while he secretly controlled the underworld. And he was so damn cunning and a smooth-talker too, he got us all to dance after his pipe, saying it was for the good of the world and half of us believed him, while we dealt with drugs and weapons, forced people into prostitution, blackmailed the hell out of politicians and what else not. The rest did it for fun. Kept saying he was communicating with angels, that they wished for us to succeed, even gave us some fancy knives, saying they were angel blades, the only thing that could kill a demon. 

“And every now and then he would drag in prisoners, saying they were possessed and that we had to exorcise them to save them, just a fancy description for torture, and hell, if they died? That’s just bad luck, but at least their souls were in heaven. Had some fancy parlor tricks up his sleeve, firing of a light show, saying it was the angels who claimed the souls of the possessed.”

Dean snorts mockingly, remembering all too clearly Alastair’s smarmy voice as he explained how important their work was, and that no one else was able to do it.

“And he had that special policy going regarding his most faithful disciples. Only when they’re tough enough to survive his worst are they allowed to pick up the knife themselves. Bet they wouldn’t have been so jealous of me, had they known what it meant to be Alastair’s favorite. He was good at it too, barely left any scar if he didn’t want to. Needless to say I was a prodigy.

“It was terrible. I was terrible. At first I did it because Alastair would praise me afterwards, saying I was his best and how proud he was of me. But to be honest, part of me liked it. I liked to hold the power in my hands, to know that they were completely at my mercy and I liked to listen to them beg for their lives. I really was Alastair’s best. And of course I was doing god’s will and I ‘saved’ so many people, fuck, I really believed that crap.

“I kept thinking that I was doing good, even though the proof was right there in front of me. God, I knew that it was fucked up, but I ignored it, because I was good at it, and Alastair never hold back with praise. And every time I had doubts, I would tell myself that I was doing this for Sammy, to get him the money he needed to get through college. I’m such a fucking failure, I used my brother as an excuse because I couldn’t accept that I was Alastair’s pretty little bitch, ready to roll over any time just for a bit of praise.”

Cas squeezes his thigh slightly and moves closer, giving silent comfort and it’s just one step closer to a breakdown for Dean. He’s relieved to a point he can hardly breathe that Cas doesn’t reject him, but at the same time he feels crushed by guilt; Cas should be mad at him, Cas should be furious, he shouldn’t be this accepting and supportive.

Dean can’t handle this, he just can’t. It’s not fair, that Cas has to go through so much, while Dean gets away with all the shit he’s done and even gets a fucking cherry of understanding on top. And he can’t bring himself to object to it even, because he’s so fucking relieved that Cas doesn’t hate him, that he just wants to forget this ever happened and move on with their lives.

Dad was right. He must have seen something way before Dean realized it himself; because how else could he have known what a failure Dean would turn out to be. Always trying too hard, trying to be something he wasn’t, a _good soldier and nothing else. Daddy’s blunt little instrument._

He can’t even do the fucking right thing, when it comes to the person he lo-

Everything stutters to a halt, Dean’s thoughts stumble over themselves, forming a giant heap of jumbled confusion in Dean’s mind as he’s left reeling with the shock of the revelation. It was so damn obvious, the whole time. The way he can’t stop thinking about Cas, how his world revolved around Cas, how much he’s ready to sacrifice for Cas, almost as much as for Sam and how the very thought of losing Cas seems to tear his heart out.

And Cas just patiently sits there, waiting for Dean to get his shit together, looking at him with that pained expression of empathy that is so signature for Sam. But at least that makes one thing abundantly clear; he needs to make this right.

“I’m sorry Cas, I know this isn’t nearly enough and I know I’m asking way too much, but I want you to know how much I regret what I did. Not just because of you, but because it was wrong and terrible and I hate myself every waking minute for it.”

“Dean, I don’t know the right procedure for situations like this, all I know is that I want to make it better for you, but I don’t know how.”

“You’re doing a pretty good job at it.” Dean attempts a half-hearted smile, but it feels strained. He officially has lost the overview over what his emotions are doing, but he can only focus on so much and right now it’s the warmth that floods through him from hearing Cas’ words.

“I just try to imagine how I would feel in such a situation, and how I would want to be treated.”

“But how are you not angry? I mean Cas, you should be furious. I just don’t understand how you can be so forgiving.”

“Dean.” It should be impossible for one word to hold so much meaning at once, but Cas somehow manages to fill his name with a whole world of emotions. And Dean’s heart decides it’s a good idea to try and beat a way out of his chest.

This is definitely not how he expected this all to go.

“I am not too well versed in your religions practices, but I think that almost all of them believe in redemption? I know that what you did wasn’t right, but I also know that you’ve been trying to make up for it; I know that you’re suffering because of it, even now, and most importantly, I know that you regret.  And that is really all that matters to me.”

“You’re like Jesus, you know that?”

It shouldn’t be possible, but Dean already feels lighter, just by listening to the silent faith in Cas’ voice, like there is absolutely no question that Dean is redeemable.

“I can’t find any resemblance between the messiah and me.”

“You know the unconditional forgiveness thing? Sounds like Jesus to me.”

“I don’t think forgiveness is a quality unique to Jesus.”

Dean laughs softly, and finally allows himself to relax, leaning his head against Cas’ shoulder and just allowing himself to feel the hope he denied himself for so long. Maybe Cas is right, maybe he deserves forgiveness, maybe some time in the future he will be redeemed.

“But honestly Cas, you’re too holy for your own good. I don’t deserve this, I know I don’t, I’ve done so much shit, fuck, I killed people, and I was proud of myself, because I thought I was doing them a fucking favor. And I did so much other bad stuff, while calling myself a saint.”

“It was deceit. Greater men have fallen to the deceit of others; there is no shame in that. I know this doesn’t make it better, but you have to accept that you made a mistake. I’m not trying to make excuses for you either, but I want you to understand that I won’t blame you for what you did. You are one of the most caring and selfless people I’ve ever met, which admittedly, aren’t very many and most of them were bad people to begin with.” Castiel pauses. “Maybe I am not qualified to make this judgment, but I believe in you Dean.”

“Okay. Thanks, I guess?”

“Dean, I am serious. I’m not an expert on the matter, but I firmly believe that you can redeem yourself. Maybe you already have, you did so much good for your family, and me. You make me very happy and I am sure people’s happiness is just as important as their lives. And you did get out on your own, didn’t you? So you made the decision at one point, that what you were doing was wrong.”

“Yeah I did, but it took me way too long to figure it out. I didn’t get some fancy decisive key moment where I realized my wrongness; I just woke up one morning and could no longer ignore the guilt and shame. So yeah, I got out. But that doesn’t change that I was part of the organization responsible for what happened to you, and I can’t just ignore that Cas.”

“Neither can I.” Cas says gravely, and Dean can almost feel his insides freeze. He should have known that the shoe would drop eventually, Cas may be a saint, but even he can’t forgive everything.

 “I know what you did was horrible, but I can also accept that it happened a long time ago, during a part of your life that was very difficult for you, and no matter how much responsible you feel for what happened to me, that doesn’t change that you had no part in it. I can’t forgive you Dean, because there is nothing for me to forgive. What happened to me and what happened to you, are two different things entirely. It’s you who has to forgive yourself.”

If only it were so easy.


	23. Chapter 23

Dean doesn’t exactly feel better after their conversation. He doubts that he will for quite some time. But it’s a start.

It helps that he spends as much time with Cas as possible. And with all the secrets between them cleared, it’s easy to fall back into their old habits. Dean is careful still, but Cas gives no sign whatsoever that he’s uncomfortable, insisting that Dean trust him, and once his first inhibitions are broken, it is almost too easy to forget that he ever had a problem. He likes to touch Cas, he _needs_ to touch Cas, and he needs to feel Cas touching him just as badly. It’s like breathing; it’s natural all he seems to need these days. There’s no harm in taking it slow though. So taking their time is what they do. (And if that isn’t a sweet thing to do.)

Sam takes Cas with him to see Chuck again, and they come back with the same result. There’s no tangible effect on Cas’ mind. Sam calls it cheating, Dean calls it a stroke of luck and Cas simply smiles and shrugs. But neither one of them complains. And that’s that.

(Dean can’t help but think they got off the hook too easily. There’s a shoe waiting to drop, but there is nothing he can do about that.)

“It’s like you have some ugly pictures on your computer. You can’t delete them but you can put them in some folder and never look at them again. You could even password protect it and hide the folder. It would still be there of course, but you’d never have to look at it again.” Sam explained earlier, and Dean figures, since he understood the explanation for a change, it must be a good thing.

It’s late afternoon, another lazy evening on the couch awaits them, but Dean has been feeling an itch under his skin for quite a while now. They haven’t done much aside from kissing and making out, but with every little step they take, Dean’s desire burns hotter, until it’s almost consuming him. He still has doubts, but at this point it’s unmistakably that Cas’ want is all his own. And judging by the increasingly heated looks he sends Dean, he has plans for tonight.

And as excited as that makes him, it also fills him with a certain kind of dread, because, fuck, he isn’t ready for that.

Cas keeps giving him sideways glances throughout the whole of dinner and Dean can almost physically feel their burn on his skin. He’s pretty sure Cas is trying to seduce him and it’s all that Dean can do not to embarrass himself. Thankfully, both Sam and Bobby are too distracted by the television to notice that neither Cas nor Dean pay attention. Thanks to some streak of luck, they’re both seated in a way that leaves Cas and Dean in their blind spots.

Or maybe Cas is just way too good at this and deliberately seated himself in a way that would leave him, and subsequently Dean, out of their eyes.

Dean’s hand rests on Cas’ thigh, he can’t remember how it got there though. Not that it’s important; the only thing that matters is Cas’ warm breath on the side of his neck as he incrementally moves closer until Dean can feel the press of lips against his skin. He has been on edge the whole day, balancing between a bearable state of arousal and overwhelming desire; and all that now threatens to come to a rather explosive conclusion.

(Pun totally not intended.)

There’s a hand sneaking under his shirt and Cas breaks the last line of fair battle when he licks at the spot behind Dean’s ear. Now it’s official, Cas is out for blood. And with that Dean decides there is absolutely no reason to hold back anymore, Cas undoubtedly wants this, and Dean is loath to deny him.

“You sure you want to play this game?” Dean turns his head and whispers against the rough stubble on Cas’ jaw. He can feel the shiver that runs through Cas body, can hear the slight hitch of breath. Cas is smiling softly, but there is a glint in his eyes that promises trouble.

“Well,” Cas flicks out his tongue against the shell of Dean’s ear, closely followed by the graze of his teeth. Dean is barely able to hold back a moan and he can feel the soft puff of breath against his skin as Cas lets out a low chuckle. “I plan on winning.”

There’s a certain thrill to this, knowing that Bobby and Sam just need to turn their heads to see what they are doing, trying to get a rise out of Cas, while desperately fighting to keep silent himself. They’ve done something similar before, only then they had the cover of the kitchen table, but still having Cas’ foot in his crotch was pretty intense and it was just as hard to keep a straight face as it is now. Only this time it is even more exciting, because there’s a certain intent in Cas’ touches, it’s not just a game, it’s a prelude to something and Dean has no intention of letting it go to waste.

Cas’ mouth has found its perfect resting place on Dean’s neck, sucking on the skin and undoubtedly leaving marks to show it, but Dean is far from objecting. Cas’ hand is wound tightly in his hair and the other draws idle patterns on his stomach, inching closer and closer to his chest until he reaches Dean’s nipple and Dean has to bite his tongue to keep back the moan. He’s losing, he’s gloriously losing this game, but he honestly couldn’t care less.

He can feel his cock slowly hardening, twitching already, demanding attention from the hands that are currently busy elsewhere on Dean’s body. And rationally he knows that they shouldn’t go any further than this, not here in the middle of the living room with two potential witnesses, but all he can think of is Cas’ hand on his nipples, tweaking and rubbing and he’s overcome with pulsing need.

It’s almost impossible to hold back the moans; he’s already breathing hard and right at the moment when he’s sure he will no longer be able to stay silent, Cas’ hand moves from Dean’s hair to cover his mouth, swallowing up all the sounds that threaten to spill. The whole thing is more of a turn on than it has every right to be, Dean instinctively bucking his hips up against the empty air in the search of the friction he so desperately wants. But it only serves to push his erection against the fabric of his boxer briefs, not unpleasant, but not nearly close to what he really wants.

And then Cas’ breath is on his ear again, tickling the already sensitive skin of his body as he whispers in a low seductive growl: “Already giving up?” The whole thing is accented with a masterful pinch on his right nipple and Dean shamelessly exploits the makeshift gag made out of Cas hand, by not even attempting to muffle his noises anymore. Cas sucks in a sharp breath and bites down softly on Dean’s earlobe.

They’re rudely interrupted by the commercial break, and since that means that Bobby’s and Sam’s attention is no longer focused on the television, and neither of them wants to be caught in this sort of compromising situation, they reluctantly let go of each other. Not that it’s that easy. They keep their legs pressed together, and it’s like a line of searing hot pressure between them. Dean’s fingers twitch, desperate to touch and explore, but he can’t and it definitely is one of the hardest things he’s ever done.

“Dean, are you alright?” Sam asks with that one expression that is Sammy-original, confused puppy eyes with worried eyebrows, barely covering up the tell-me-what-is-wrong-or-god-help-me look, that he only gets when he’s sure that Dean hides something from him. Something that usually requires _sharing_. He couldn’t be more wrong this time.

(Something about that is very laughable - he might be able to appreciate that later.)

“I’m peachy.” Dean slaps a hand on Cas’ thigh, leering at his brother, watching with smooth satisfaction as his brother visibly recalls all those times he walked in on Dean and company, ranging from one to three people at a time. After Cas, mentally scarring his little brother is one of his favorite things to do.

Sam grimaces, obviously getting the hint that meddling now is a pretty dumb idea, but not without muttering a ‘jerk’ under his breath.

“Don’t worry bitch, we’ll keep it PG-13.”

“Whatever you do, don’t do it on my couch.” Bobby throws in and gives them a look that clearly promises trouble, if they should dare to disregard his concern for his property. “If you fornicate on it, you buy it.”

“I think that is our cue.” Dean grabs Cas’ hand and pulls him up. “How about we buy us a bed?”

Sam rolls his eyes and turns back towards the TV, while Bobby shakes his head and takes another sip from his beer bottle.

“We need another bed?” Cas asks once they’ve made it out of the living room and up the stairs.

Dean is acutely aware of his tight pants, and therefore not interested in giving lengthy explanations. “Nope, but if Bobby goes through with his threat, we might be forced to pay for our bed – again.”

“I don’t… oh, now I understand.”

They’ve reached the bedroom and Dean pushes the door open and turns on the lights, feeling hesitant all of a sudden. “Are you… you know, on for that?” It’s hard to meet Cas’ eyes, especially when he has a visible bulge in his pants that demands attention pretty insistently.

And then Cas smirks, obviously having caught on to the situation, and the whole predatory behavior from earlier is back, and Dean has a brief moment to wonder where exactly he learned that, before he’s pushed back against a wall. Somehow Cas manages to pin him and close the door all in one movement, and then his mouth is back on Dean’s neck and there’s no time to think anymore, because Cas is sucking on his skin and heat is pulsing through Dean’s body.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” Cas growls into his ear, biting down right after, and maybe that’s all just pent up sexual frustration - and holy fuck. Dean gasps as Cas’ hand presses against the bulge in his pants, rubbing through the rough fabric of the jeans and Dean’s mouth falls open in a vulgar moan, only to be instantly sealed by Cas’ warm lips.

Cas is relentless, Dean barely has a chance to react to the lips on his’ before Cas moves down to his neck again, pulling the skin between his teeth, undoubtedly leaving a few marks on his way, but Dean really can’t be bothered to mind. He winds his fingers through Cas’ hair, dragging a moan from him, that seems not only to surprise Dean. He somehow manages to file that information away in some part of his brain that isn’t busy processing the various sensations that surge through his body whenever Cas touches him.

“Dean.” Cas’ voice is breathy, a deep rasp that makes Dean’s blood sing in his veins, it drips with want and urgency. And Dean isn’t sure what he’s asking, or if he’s even asking for anything. But it doesn’t seem to matter, because Cas’ hands push under his shirt, a hot touch on Dean’s burning skin, and he keeps whispering his name, as if it was a prayer, a song, maybe even the breath he needs to live.

“Cas.” The name falls from Dean’s mouth as an answer, his hands tighten in Cas’ hair, pulling him up roughly into another kiss, and judging by the wrecked sound in the back of Cas’ throat that really does things to him. It also does things to Dean, things that shouldn’t be possible from just hearing a few breathy moans, but then again, Cas’ voice can do much worse to his over stimulated brain. And he can’t help but wonder how it would sound if Cas talked dirty. The sole thought of that, of Cas swearing, blaspheming, while he fucks into Dean is almost enough to make Dean come straight in his pants.

There’s no holding back now, he needs to get his hands on Cas, preferably ten minutes ago. He runs his hands down Cas’ chest, dragging over way too much fabric, but that’s just part of the whole package, knowing that under all those layers is Cas, his Cas, makes unwrapping even better. Cas doesn’t seem to want to let go of him, but even he sees the benefits of getting rid of clothes, so he allows Dean to push his coat and jacket from his shoulders, but before Dean can get to the shirt, his patience apparently runs short and he presses back against Dean.

It’s hard to focus with Cas so close up in his space, with his hand all over his body, but Dean has enough experience to know that they should probably continue this on their bed. There is a certain thrill to Cas being this dominant, pushing him against the door, but there is so much more they could do while being vertical.

“Bed, now.” He manages to groan out between kisses, his voice almost as deep as Cas’. Judging by the shudder that runs through Cas’ body, he finds that as hot as Dean does. Somehow they manage to make their way over to the bed, without so much as breaking their kiss, and then it’s just a big pile of limbs and torsos, Cas’ face ends up somewhere on Dean’s chest and he really can’t complain because - Jesus fucking Christ.  Cas just bit him through the fabric of his shirts, both of them, and he might just have skimmed a nipple with his teeth.

That seemed to have pulled some kind of stop in Cas, because he all but rips off Dean’s flannel shirt, leaving no such patience for his other shirt that goes flying with a rain of loose buttons. Dean can’t say he cares about that. Not when he has Cas’ lips on his chest, lips and teeth, and then Cas drags his nails over Dean’s skin and it’s all he can do not to fall of the bed with all the pleasure that shoots through him.

“Dean, I want to touch you.” Cas growls against his sternum, and Dean takes a few moments of confused blinking, before he realizes that Cas isn’t talking about touching him, but touching him _there._

“Cas,” he groans, wondering where the fuck his hands have gone, because he can’t seem to find them. “Just do it already.” Oh wait, there they are, making their way down Cas’ sides, without any incentive from Dean’s brain. But he’s totally on board with that, so he’ll forgive their transgression this time.

Cas pushes himself up to look down at Dean, eyes hungry with the pupils almost blown into full black, and if there had been any doubt that Cas isn’t totally serious with this, no it’s definitely gone. Dean is painfully hard, has been for quite a while now and when Cas finally trails his hands down to where Dean really, really wants him to be right now, it’s nearly enough  to make him blow right then and there.

“Fuck, Cas.” He groans, impatient, when Cas makes no attempt on touching, instead going for slow, lazy circles around his crotch and why the fuck is he still dressed? Who gave Cas the right to be such a fucking tease? And where the hell does he get that patience from? It’s like he’s living off Dean’s reactions, eyes gleaming with something dark as he eyes Dean’s every twitch.

He’s kneeling now, straddling Dean’s legs, and letting his gaze drip over Dean’s exposed chest like he has all the time in the world. Dean tries to buck his hips up to gain some, _any_ , friction, but Cas effortlessly presses him down with one hand, letting the other draw idle patterns on his still clothed thigh.

“I’ve waited for this for a very long time.” Cas says, voice like honey, heavy and sweet, and so much different from his usual stern behavior. It’s like he’s flipped a switch, from socially confused and clueless, to experienced and exactly knowing what he wants. And there’s a pang of worry, of what Cas must have done during his time at the brothel, to learn all these things, to be this sure while he’s oblivious to so much else.

“Don’t worry, this is all you. I haven’t done this to anyone else ever before.” It’s as if Cas has heard his thoughts, as if he’s able to read Dean like an open book, like he’s so tuned in to him that he knows exactly what to do. And maybe that’s just it. There’s no learning curve, no hidden experience, just instinct and the undisputable reaction of Dean’s body, pulling Cas in the right direction all on his own.

And that is just so Cas, he doesn’t hesitate just because this is new, he doesn’t allow insecurity and inexperience stop him from doing what he wants. It’s admirable in a way. There’s really just one thing Dean can say to that.

“Come on Cas, fuck me already.”

Cas freezes for a moment, looking down at Dean with a slightly awed expression, and then he’s smirking, a hungry look in his eyes, a promise, to do exactly what Dean asked him, and more. It sets every nerve end in Dean’s body on fire and he can’t remember ever having felt this much at once. The desire is overwhelming, burning through him, and before he can even think about what he’s doing, his hands have taken on action upon themselves again, and he drags Cas down into a kiss that leaves them panting and hungry for more.

“Oh, I will.” Cas’ stubble is rough against his skin as he speaks, and Dean groans out his impatience.

“Stop teasing already.” If anyone had told Dean that Cas would be this much of a tease (and freaking good at it), he would have taken Cas’ stupid backwards tie to tie him up and have his way with him. Still, he can’t say he doesn’t like this Cas. He’s god damn hot after all.

Dean tugs at Cas’ shirt, tie already halfway removed, wondering why the fuck they were still dressed, when they could be gloriously naked. Cas seems to think the same, because his hands are on Dean’s belt buckle. He essentially throws a wrench in Dean’s efforts to get his shirt off, but his complaints fall short when Cas pushes his pants down, and ohhh fuck-

It’s not the first time they’re doing  this, but this is the first time when there’s a promise of more involved, and the sheer thought of Cas inside of him makes Dean’s breath stutter. Add to that that Cas is currently stroking him through his pants and he’s pretty sure this is the best day of his life. Cas finally allows him to pull off his shirt and yeah, naked skin is definitely the best.

As much as Dean would want to fuck Cas, that’s not exactly an option, considering that Chuck inconveniently forgot to equip him with a prostate. (Apparently the absence of sperm warrants the absence of every other reproductive organ. Leaves the question what his testicles are for. Also, not the right moment for this.)

“Dean, I want to…” Cas looks down at him, face flushed, mouth slightly parted, and looking for all the world as if he’s completely wrecked. Okay, scratch that, he _is_ completely wrecked. And so is Dean.

“What do you want Cas?” Dean’s voice is breathy, and he has the strong urge to kiss Cas again, but things are about to get interesting, and right now he wants Cas’ mouth to answer his question, because he needs to, he _wants_ to hear it.

There’s heavy blush on Cas’ cheeks, if it’s from embarrassment or from his generally aroused state is hard to tell, but Dean has a hunch that it’s a mixture of both. Cas’ tongue flicks out to wet his lips and his eyes flit down to where Dean’s cock still strains against his underwear.

“I want to fuck you Dean.” Cas whispers with a growl, and fuck, that was way hotter than anything Dean expected. “I want to make you scream my name. I want to make you come so hard that you won’t b e able to walk for days.”

“Fuck, Cas. I didn’t know you could be so dirty.”

“I was under the impression that you enjoyed ‘dirty talk’.”

“Hell yes.”

“Is that your answer?”

Dean smirks up at Cas, invitation and reassurance in one, and Cas understands and with that, the last reservations are gone. Cas divests him of his boxer briefs, tossing them somewhere on the ground, and since it’s only half as fun half dressed, Cas’ pants and underwear quickly follow. And oh dear sweet Jesus on a pancake, he will never get over that sight, of Cas completely exposed to his eyes, skin just that short of perfection to still pass as human skin.

Cas doesn’t waste time after that and Dean almost has to bodily force him down on his side so that they can actually share some of the pleasure. Dean usually wouldn’t object to being alone on the receiving end, but this is his first time with Cas and he wants to drive him just as crazy as Cas does him. And after he got his hands on Cas’ cock, he clearly sees the advantage of that.

He has one hand buried in Cas’ hair, the other is wrapped tightly around his cock, but it’s getting harder to focus on that, because Cas’ hand is on his dick and he’s slowly going crazy from his lazy tantalizing strokes. It’s clumsy in a way, experimental would be a better description. Dean has experience with this but he’s too distracted, and Cas is just incredibly receptive to all of Dean’s reactions, adjusting both his pace and his grip accordingly.

“Dean.” Cas moans and Dean doesn’t need any translation to understand what he’s saying. It takes all of his willpower to pull away to reach over to his nightstand and retrieve the bottle of lube from the drawer. There’s no need for a condom, Cas isn’t human enough to catch any form of disease Dean could possibly carry - or transmit one. He doesn’t know if Cas knows what to do, but then Cas just takes the bottle out of his hand and settles himself between Dean’s legs. He’s careful, almost too careful for Dean’s liking, but he lets him work in his own pace, leaning back and closing his eyes as Cas takes on thoroughly fucking him with one finger.

It had been a while since Dean had something inside of him, but Cas instantly feely at home there, and soon Dean is rocking impatiently down on Cas’ finger, urging him on, because he needs something of substance, preferably now. Cas, on the other hand, seems to be completely enraptured by the sight of Dean swallowing his finger up, he’s watching with intense concentration as he pushes his finger in and out. His mouth hangs open slightly, and even though Dean can’t see it, he’s sure that Cas is more than painfully hard.

By the time Cas has three fingers in him, Dean is sure that he’ll go and blow his load the moment Cas puts his cock in, and he’s only a short straw from actual whining to get Cas to finally stop teasing. No matter how often he rocks his hips down, no matter how often he urges Cas on, verbally and physically, he refuses to change his pace. Cas drags lazy knuckles over Dean’s prostate every now and then and growls every time Dean lets out a moan, like it’s the prize he’s aiming for and he can’t understand why Dean is keeping that from him.

But even Cas has a limit, and when he finally reaches it, he scrambles frantically to get them both into position. If Dean hadn’t been so damn occupied with certain other things he would have laughed at that, because there is something indescribable elating at seeing Cas this frantic for something as debauched as getting his cock into Dean.

Dean pushes his hips up, easing the access for Cas who apparently can’t decide where to look. His eyes keep darting between Dean’s spread legs and his face, a wild expression in his eyes that sends sparks of electrical heat through Dean’s body. He can’t tear his eyes away from Cas’ face, from that intense look of rapture, even though the real interesting part is going on way lower, but he can’t be pressed to focus on that right now.

Their eyes meet and Dean’s heart throbs in his chest, and even though Cas has difficulties positioning, slick head of his penis sliding against Dean’s sweat-soaked skin, they can’t avert their eyes. It’s impossible, it’s like Cas’ eyes are sucking him in, there’s barely any blue left, just black filled with so much need and want it takes Dean’s breath away.

And then Cas finally aligns right and pushes in, the head catching ever so slightly on Dean’s rim and what little air is left in his lungs is pressed out in one instant. He scrambles for purchase, somewhere, anywhere, and somehow he finds one of Cas’ hands, or maybe Cas finds his. His grip must be painful, but Cas doesn’t show any signs of pain, he’s too focused on his task and how anyone manages to look this concentrated while slowly burying themselves into someone’s ass is beyond Dean. But there’s that look in his eyes, that deep burning look of lust and something very emotional, and Dean’s heart is having a race with his lungs that both of them inadvertently seem to be losing.

Cas moves so fucking slowly, it’s driving Dean crazy. He digs his fingers into the bedspread, trying to push his hips up further, to close the last few inches until Cas is fully sheathed inside of him, but Cas stops him with a growl, hand tightening on Dean’s hip.

“Fuck, Cas. Come on.” Dean urges and Cas growls again, eyes sparking, but Dean’s words apparently have struck something and he snaps his hips forward in one swift motion and Dean’s breath is cleanly knocked out of him. It’s not fair, it really is not fair that Cas has this effect on him, making him breathless, barely able to even moan, while he doesn’t even have lungs. Or maybe he has, the way he’s panting sure says he does, but really, that’s not important right now and ohhh-

Cas has relocated his hand to Dean’s chest and is now playing with his nipple and that’s really way too much for Dean’s brain to handle. He doesn’t seem to be able to keep up with what’s happening, Cas is inside of him, balls deep as they say, and it’s by far the best feeling he’s ever had in his life, but he isn’t even moving yet, just playing with his nipple and even that is already nearly too much.

“Dean, I want to move.” Cas’ voice is a mess, ragged and deeper than usual, and it spikes something hot in Dean to know that he’s the cause of that. A rather passive cause, but still. He untangles his hand from the sheets and reaches up to pull Cas in for a kiss, but the changed angle is doing _something_ to him that has him arching his back up with a moan on his lips. The movement causes his cock to press against Cas’ belly and both the friction and Cas’ cock in him together sets his vision alight with stars.

“Dean, please.” Cas whispers against his chin, his breath almost too hot on Dean’s overheated skin. Dean can actually feel the tension in his body from the effort to keep still while Dean is still adjusting, except he isn’t and Cas is long overdue to fucking finally move. He winds his fingers in Cas’ hair, pulling him down into a sloppy kiss while pushing his hips up in the same motion, and this time Cas lets him, or maybe he doesn’t have any other choice, because the movement catches him by surprise and he lets out a sharp gasp against Dean’s open mouth.

“Dean.” He growls and then he’s moving, finally, and Dean can’t keep track of anything else anymore, because he’s fucked thoroughly by a bot and damn him to hell, if that isn’t the best sex he’s ever had. He drags his hands over Cas’ back, digging in his fingers as Cas pushes himself up to get better leverage. Cas is flushed, panting hard, the only thing that’s lacking is the sheen of sweat on his skin. But it doesn’t matter, because right now he seems more alive than ever.

He can’t remember ever feeling this much at once. It’s not just the feeling of Cas _inside_ of him, as amazing as that is, but how he just needs to reach out and he can touch Cas, pull him in for a kiss or make him moan by dragging his nails over his back, and it’s so astounding because Cas just reacts to everything he does, pupils blown wide, mouth hanging open as he keeps on pounding relentlessly into Dean.

Cas’ is moaning above him, his voice impossibly deep, and the mere sound of him coming undone does things to Dean that should be forbidden. His cock is throbbing, but whenever he tries to reach out to give himself some relief, Cas does something, a twist of hips, a graze of teeth over skin and Dean’s senses are overloaded again with so much heat and pleasure It feels like he’s going out of his mind. Cas is inside of him, it’s tight and he just feels so _full_ , and before this moment he would never believed it possible, but he also feels complete.

There’s a tumble of words on Dean’s lips, he’s vaguely aware that he keeps moaning Cas’ name, but it’s hard to focus, because Cas’ thrusts have become erratic and he’s close now, there’s just one tiny thing that’s missing-

And then Cas’ hand is on him, just a quick tug really, but Dean’s so over stimulated that it’s already enough, and he comes, hands gripping on to Cas’ arms as his vision whitens. There’s a buzz in his ears drowning out the sounds, but he’s sure he’s close to screaming when the orgasm hits him, because there is no way that something as amazing as this can go over silently. Cas is still moving when he can see clear again, but his movements are arbitrary now and he clings on to Dean, burying his face in the crook of his neck.

Dean slings his arm around Cas, pushing his hips up in a last effort to bring him close, and then Cas’ whole body goes stiff, he lets out a strangled moan that would have the potential to make Dean come right again, if he hadn’t just had his orgasm moments ago. He runs his hands through Cas’ hair, soothing him through his orgasm, until Cas goes slack, his breath wet on Dean’s neck.

They stay like this for a while, just soaking in the other’s body heat until Dean decides that sticky cum on his body isn’t nearly as comfortable as porn makes it out to be and he gently shoves Cas off of him. Cas grumbles something, reaching out to pull Dean back in, but he relents after Dean appeases him with a few kisses. After a quick tour to the bathroom and one wet cloth later he’s back in the bed, and there’s something undeniably satisfying to fall into the waiting arm of the man who just fucked him senseless (He refuses to apply the word lover, Cas is so much more than that word could ever cover).

“I have to say that was quite enjoyable.” Dean says as he twines his finger through Cas’. His response is a short snort and a flick of finger against his hip.

“I’ll remind you of that the next time you scream my name when you come.”

“So, where did you learn that?”

“Learn what?”

“All this dirty talk. Don’t tell me you’re a natural.”

“Well, I am very well acquainted with what humans enjoy during intercourse, and I gathered that you were no exception so I applied what little knowledge I had gathered.”

Dean closes his eyes, forcing his muscles to relax as the waves of anger crush through him. He _knows_ that it’s different for Cas, that he doesn’t have to be affected by the bad things that happened to him. But he can’t forget the times when Cas had a conditioned response to something, subconsciously locking up and baring himself to whatever Dean intended to do. Sam has, in the meantime, explained at length that conditioning can be untrained; especially since Cas’ conditioning was a _program_ , and those can simply be deleted. And by clearing up Cas’ error, they apparently did just that.

And now hearing him, talking about it so casually, even using the experience to Dean’s benefit, leaves a sick feeling in Dean’s gut. He doesn’t want to benefit from what Cas had to endure. And what if all of what Cas did to him moments ago was something he’d learned during that time? God, he should never have agreed to this.

“So, is that it? You’re just ‘applying your knowledge’ to satisfy me?” His words come out harsher than intended, but Dean can’t help it. He feels angry and dirty, and worse, he feels guilty, because Cas did those things to please _him._ If he’d just asked-

And he just knows he would have said yes anyway, because he was horny and would have done almost anything Cas would suggest.

“Do you really think that?”

“Honestly? I don’t know what to think Cas. I thought you were fine with this, I thought this is what you wanted. And now you’re telling me you did all that just to please me?”

Cas pushes up slightly to look at Dean. “What is wrong with wanting to please you?”

“Everything.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Dean huffs out an exasperated breath. He knows that Cas technically is right, but with all the circumstances attached, it is way more complicated than it has every right to be.

“Cas, I need to know that you did all those things because you wanted it, not because you thought I wanted it.” Maybe it would help if he stopped calling it ‘those things’.

“Dean, I wanted it, I told you as much. Why would you ever think otherwise?”

“Because you said so. God Cas, you can’t just go and tell me that you used your knowledge you acquired as a fucking sex slave just to get me off.” Prime choice of wording there Winchester. He expects Cas to assure him again, maybe start another lecture on trust and how they’re horrendously failing at that - again. But what he gets instead is a thoughtful stare and a sick feeling that maybe he’d just hit a mark.

“I wanted it.” Cas repeats but he won’t meet Dean’s eyes, and fuck.

“But?” Dean forces himself to ask, already dreading the answer.

“I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to, but I didn’t allow you a choice.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I didn’t leave you a choice when it came to positioning.”

“Pos- Cas are you saying that you think you forced me to bottom for you?” Cas doesn’t give him an answer, he just keeps looking at the ceiling, as if something profoundly interesting was written on the stained boards.

“I don’t know about you, but I clearly remember me asking you to fuck me, which in my book is a clear invitation as any.” Not to mention that the other way round, quite frankly, wouldn’t make sense.

“But I don’t know if I can do the same for you.”

“So?” Dean rakes a frustrated hand through his hair. Really, they’re both equally to blame for this, they should have talked about this _before_ the sex, but admittedly, they both had been occupied at the time. He sincerely hopes that this is the bottom of it, that there are no other problems and unspoken things he has to uncover, because he’s had enough of that for one day, thank you.

“Don’t you understand Dean? I could never do this for you. It’s not that I don’t trust you, I just don’t think I could take it. I know that some women can enjoy this kind of thing, but don’t feel like I could do the same. I’m sorry Dean.”

“So you’re saying this has nothing to do with what happened to you, but with you fearing I’d leave you because I can’t fuck you?”

“Yes. I’m not suffering from trauma. I just don’t think I could do that to you, and with that I’ve effectively taken the choice out of your hands.”

“Do you really think that? Cas, give me some credit here. I had a choice, and I made it. And when it comes down to it, I’m more than fine with how it is.”

Cas sighs, but he seems to be more at ease now. His eyes do that smiley thing again, that leaves his mouth entirely unaffected.

“I’m not in this only for the sex, you know.” Dean runs a hand through his hair, noting absently that he desperately needs a shower.

“I do. I simply seem to have a hard time accepting that pleasure is not a currenc.”

“Dude, I spent way too much time using sex as a currency. But this? This is different. And I’m sure as hell complaining about the ride, and from what I understand you didn’t either.”

Cas finally turns his head to look at him, the smile has migrated to his lips now. Dean returns the smile and pulls Cas in for a lasting kiss, dragging his hand through his hair. It takes a short tug and Cas gasps against his lips, a blush spreading rapidly on his cheeks.   

“Okay?” Dean asks, cradling Cas’ face with his hand, thumb tracing over the lingering blush.

“Okay, Dean.”


	24. Chapter 24

Things are looking up. Things are definitely looking up, and that should have been a warning. If Dean has learned on thing, it’s that good things never stay good for long. But waking up entangled with Cas with the the bone-deep satisfaction of knowing that he got fucked pretty thoroughly the night before, has some dampening effect on his trouble-radar. Really, having Cas in his arms; or more profoundly, having him inside, is something Dean could get adduced to. Or maybe he already is, judging by the unwillingness he feels every time he has to get up.

Things have been good indeed. Good enough Dean entertains the thought of telling Sam the truth. Finally. Sam is the most important person in his life, Cas is close, but there’s a spot that is reserved for Sammy that Cas’ll never take. They’re both his family though, and there’s no question in his mind that he’ll do about anything to save them.

 So Cas knows, and Dean feels that it is time Sam does too, but bringing it up isn’t easy and Dean keeps waiting for the right moment. The right moment isn’t exactly intent on showing itself though.

It’s what he’s thinking about the better part of the next day (okay not really, he spends the better part of the day thinking about Cas and potential activities involving cocks, and kissing, lots of kissing, and making out, and yeah the whole package, but he spends the next better part of the day wondering about it). And even though it’s not what he thinks of when he leaves for work that evening, it’s what he’s thinking of when he says goodbye to Ellen and Jo, because they’re family too and he ought to have told them, just as he should have Sam.

Come to think of, there is a pretty long list of people he considers family and who have a right to know.

It’s pretty late, they had some bachelor party there, and since the tips had been really good, Ellen had allowed them to stay a bit longer, but clean up afterwards had been a freaking mess. It’s way later than his usual time, and Castiel will most likely be asleep. But there’s the slight chance that he’s still awake, not needing sleep has some perks after all. But the thought of some late night sex fails to excite Dean as it usually would; his mind is more occupied with how he’s possibly going to tell Sam that he financed his college years with drugs and prostitution. And those were the ‘harmless’ things he did.

It’s not the first time to turn himself in has crossed his mind, but he can’t bear the thought of leaving Sammy again. It’s the right thing, unquestionably. That doesn’t make it easier. Alastair needs to be stopped, and Dean could have done that years ago. He didn’t, and that weighs heavily on his conscience.

He didn’t because he’s selfish.

Because he still uses Sam as an excuse to justify what he did, as what he still refuses to do. It has his thoughts run in circles, enough so that it takes longer than it should to find his keys.

And that’s probably also the reason why he doesn’t see what’s coming next, and it’s really becoming a theme around here (he should work on that). He was lucky the last time. It was only one then, and he wasn’t out for blood, but to prove a point, and that’s what shoots through his head the moment he sees the silhouettes of the three men approaching. It’s also about the only thing he gets to think before something heavy hits his head from behind and he finds himself on the ground for some reason.

Dean is not sure if they tried to knock him out and failed, or if they just wanted to get him on the ground, either way, his mind is sluggish and his visions does tricks on him, because one of the three guys is Alastair and that can’t be right. He’s vaguely aware that he’s in a shit situation and that he probably should get up right about now, but there’s no strength in his arms and why the fuck is Alastair here?

He never gets out on jobs himself, unless it’s one of his secret retrieval missions that usually ends with another unfortunate victim tied to a chair - and oh fuck he’s screwed. He tries to push himself up, head complaining loudly at him, he’s not sure, but there might be blood in his hair and then there’s a boot kicking at his arm and he drops down like the pathetic sack of wheat that he is. A hand grabs his shirt and yanks him up and he finds himself face to face with one vey smarmy, very satisfied mug that he hoped to never see again in his life.

“Playtime’s over Dean.”

And then everything drowns in black.

* * *

 

The first thing that registers with Dean’s mind is pain. No immediate life-threatening pain, but a dull ache in his shoulders and a throbbing at the back of his head. There’s a strain in his arms, they feel weak and overstretched at the same time, but worst is the burn in his wrists. There’s a significance to all that pain, some essential piece of information, but it’s hard to think when his mind is stuffed with cotton.

He can’t move, but he can’t tell if it’s because he’s restrained or because he doesn’t have the energy. His head feels heavy, and he’s vaguely aware that he’s slumped over, but he can’t quite focus on the why or how. There’s a headache pounding behind his temples, it’s fueled by the throbbing at the back of his head, and it’s hard to concentrate.

It’s dark and he hopes that it’s because his eyes are closed, but trying to blink doesn’t get any response. At least there are sounds now. They’re muffled and Dean can’t tell from where they come or how close they are. It makes him nervous, and he tries harder to get his eyes open. There’s something that could be footsteps, but it could also be the beating of his heart.

The rest of his senses are slowly returning now. There’s a pungent smell in the air, oddly familiar, and what little hope Dean had that maybe he had imagined Alastair, makes a hasty escape out of the proverbial window. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know what position he’s in, and what a bad outlook that leaves him with.

He knows that smell far too well.

His arms are pulled up, chains wound around his wrists to hold him up, and that explains at least half of the pain he’s in. It’s more arduous than it has every right to be to finally force his eyes open and the sight he’s greeted with is equally as depressing as it is familiar. Dean feels sick to his stomach; he’s been here too often not to know what’s in store for him, and the fact that he’s tied in that specific position (Alastair’s favorite) doesn’t really leave much to the imagination. At least not his, but he has already been at the receiving end of Alastair’s worst.

He’s alone as far as he can tell, but the chains don’t really allow much give, so he can’t be for sure if there’s no one behind him. It wouldn’t surprise him the least if Alastair would play such games. It wouldn’t be the worst he’s ever done.

But nothing happens, no voice speaks up; no footsteps sound, and Dean doesn’t feel watched, even though with Alastair that is not a very stable argument. He’s a sneaky son of a bitch, and Dean has always had difficulties to read him. There’s no point in waiting and worrying though, he can at least try to free himself.

Which turns out to be both fruitless and painful, as he only succeeds in chafing off what little skin was left on his wrists. And potentially dislocates a shoulder. Okay, probably not, but still, it hurts like a bitch. And that brings him right back to his predicament; a strained shoulder will be the least of his problems once Alastair comes back.

At least he still has his clothes on, most of them that is. He only wears a shirt, his flannel shirt is gone and his feet are naked, and he really doesn’t want to think about what is in the various puddles on the floor and yes, he’s standing right in a half dried blood stain (and he absently wonders if it’s his own, must be, because it’s fresh). God, he hates this fucking place and he hates Alastair, and he should have known that he wouldn’t get out so easily. He should have been more careful after he encountered Tom, but he had felt so damn happy, and worse, safe, because Ash had made sure no one could trace and he had counted on Alastair to keep true to his words, and fuck him and his dumb life choices.

Obviously hoping hadn’t been enough.

He should have seen this coming; it all comes down to that. Dean kicks at a loose pebble in frustration and it’s just his freaking ass luck that it’s not a pebble but an actual tooth. Why the fuck is he not surprised? At least it’s not his own. He’s working himself in a rage (that won’t help with his throbbing head, but fuck that), he can feel it, but it’s so much more preferable than the cold fear that’s been groping at his insides the whole time since he’s realized where he is.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

It’s so fucking dumb, and John taught him better than that, but since when have John’s teachings ever helped him? But it’s worse than that, because Alastair came after him, personally, on the parking lot of the Roadhouse no less. And that means he knows about Dean’s life, his family, the people that are important to him, and that means if Dean doesn’t give him what he wants, he’s going after them next. And he just needs to imagine Cas or Sammy in a position like this, and his head fills with white hot rage, burning away even the headache that’s been tormenting him, and if he were the fucking Hulk he would transform right about now and tear these damn chains apart.

As it turns out, he isn’t.

Dean can only fuel his rage so long until the pain from too much struggling brings him back to earth. His arms are killing him, but there’s no way to relieve them. He tries to put as much of his weight on his legs, but he’s barely able to reach the floor with his feet, it’s an awkward balance act and he ends up hanging off from his arms more than once. It’s hard to hold his head up, his whole back and neck are strained and it’s easier to just let it hang, at least that way the tension on his shoulders is relieved a bit.

The floor is dirty, not just with blood, but with other things too and he’s seen too many of Alastair’s victims piss their pants to have any illusions about what it could be. He wonders how late it is. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, or even what time of day it is. This is the same room Alastair used back in Dean’s days, meaning that a) they are a whole chunk of road away from the Roadhouse and b) all the windows are barred shut, the only light source is an old electrical light bulb spazzing off somewhere behind him.

He wonders if the others are worried already. Cas probably noticed that he didn’t come home, but maybe he figured Dean was staying at the Roadhouse. But it shouldn’t take long for them to realize that something was wrong. Ellen or Jo would notice his baby still parked outside, but no, Alastair wasn’t an amateur, he would have taken care of that. And he really doesn’t want to think about what that son of a bitch might have done to his baby. So for all they knew, he could have driven off somewhere, probably thinking he ended up in some ditch by the road, and after they’d had called through all hospitals in the area, they would realize that it’s something else.

And he can only hope that they come to the right conclusion, because it wouldn’t be the first time that he just drove up without telling anyone. But he wouldn’t leave now, he wouldn’t leave his family like that, not again, and he never would leave Cas. And Cas knows, he’s told him about Alastair, but he didn’t tell him about Tom and fuck, they really have no idea where to look for him. Even if they would, Alastair is a pro and a fucking monster, they’re no match for him, so really it’s in their best interest if they never figure out where Dean went. But Alastair knows about them, he has to, because he knew from Tom where to look and there’s no way he didn’t get someone Dean doesn’t know to check things out. And his thoughts are circling around in his head, and his vision grows fuzzy again, and fuck, maybe he has a concussion.

His throat is parched and he keeps wetting his lips, but they still feel as dry as a desert in summer, and somehow that puddle of dirty water under one of the leaky pipes seems really inviting. If he could only get close enough to-

A splash of water hits him from behind, drenching his clothes with what he desperately hopes to be rainwater, but for all he knows, it could be sewer water. (His stomach doesn’t appreciate that thought.) But he tries to lick up as much of it as possible anyway, because it’s water and he’s desperate.

“Rise and shine princess.”

That voice. It hasn’t changed a bit, and Dean had way too much nightmares that centered on that smarmy voice and all the threats it would whisper into his ear. Being Alastair’s favorite had been an envied position, but it sure as hell hadn’t been fun. Alastair liked playing games way too much. Everything about that guy is way too much, and Dean could use some cavalry right about now. But no one’s coming for him, and fuck, he’s not going to panic, not in front of that bastard.

There’s the sound of the bucket or whatever he used being put down and then Alastair walks around him and into his line of sight.

“What, you’re my knight in shining armor? That’s a bit disappointing now, isn’t it?” Dean slaps on a grin, hiding behind his bravado, like he’s done so many times before. But it’s brittle, barely concealing the fear in his gut, because Alastair has spent too much time dissecting his soul to be fooled by it. It doesn’t help that he’s dripping wet either.

And that also means Alastair knows exactly where to push.

“Oh but Dean, aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Yeah, I’m having a fucking party. See, I even took a shower for you.”

Alastair smiles. Even though it’s a pretty wide stretch to actually call it that. It’s more like he’s pulling his mouth into a resemblance of a smile. The effect is not pretty.

“Dean. You wound me.”

“Excuse me for not feeling sorry, but I’m kind of busy right now.”

“I see that. How’s that been?” Alastair lets his eyes trail over Dean, and if Cas’ stares are like a physical caress, Alastair’s is like he’s touched with slimy hands. If he hadn’t been so exhausted and strung out he would have probably shuddered right out of his skin.

Since shrugging is out of the question, Dean just makes a noncommittal gesture with his head, which still hurts his neck like a bitch. “Well, you know. Just hanging around. Dripping wet.” It’s remarkable, really, how well he is able to disguise his fear. There’s not a hint of a tremble in his voice. He could almost convince himself that he’s really at ease, that this all really is just a game, a game he might win.

Hah, right.

As if Alastair would ever let someone else win in his games. It’s all about the pain and humiliation, the moment his victims realize they’ve been toyed with all along. There simply is no chance. But he can at least pretend. That’s what he’s good at after all.

“Dean, Dean, Dean.” Alastair starts circling around him and Dean cranes his head as far as it goes, willing his eyes to follow him, when his head no longer can. He curses the cold sweat that breaks out on his skin the moment Alastair is out of sight, which doesn’t really add to his overall comfort, considering he’s already wet. “I let you play with the kids for far too long.” There’s a touch on his back, fleeting, barely there, but still Dean jerks violently away, because no way in hell is he going to let Alastair touch him.

“You even picked up one of my discarded toys. How did it feel to pick through my leftovers?”

Dean closes his eyes. It feels like his lung is about to fly right out of his throat; there’s a scream beating along with his heartbeat. There’s a dark feeling coiled in his gut, and it takes every ounce of strength he has left not to lash out - ineffectively - at Alastair.

He doesn’t want to think about the implications. Cas is over it, and so should Dean, but the thought of Alastair having his filthy hands all over Cas doesn’t go over easily.

“Struck a sore spot?”

“Fuck you.” Dean snaps. He can’t, he absolutely can’t talk about this. He’s too weak, too angry and way too vulnerable.

Alastair laughs, it’s a soft noise, like stones tumbling down a hill, like bones crushing under a millstone. Dean clenches his fists; tries to fight the uprising panic; bile building up at the back of his throat. They’re in the middle of the game already, but he has no clue about the rules, he can’t even say what the stakes are, what the prize is. (There’s no prize for him, there never is, this game can only be won by Alastair.)

And just like that, Alastair moves on. (As it is, Cas is just that inconsequential to him.)

“I tried to replace you, you know. Had more than enough candidates.” There’s disdain dripping from his voice, thick like honey. Alastair steps in front of him again, and there is a knife in his hands, a small innocent looking knife, with a blade so sharp you don’t feel the pain until it’s too late. He’s playing with it, rolling it through his fingers and Dean’s whole world seems to center on the sharp gleam of metal.

“But none of them were as satisfying as you. They tried though, oh how they tried.” He flips the knife around, handle landing neatly in his palm, and all pretense of amiability is gone. “You disappoint me Dean.” The change of tone in his voice is minute, but nonetheless drastic. They’re done playing games, and if there’s one thing that Dean has learned during his time with him, is that Alastair’s games are bad, but they don’t hold a candle to when he’s serious.

“Too bad, but you’re ranging pretty low on my people-I-want-to-impress list.” The words sound hollow, even to himself; he’s barely able to keep up the façade. That revelation about Cas has him reeling still. It doesn’t help that he still doesn’t know what Alastair wants from him. Or what he’s going to do to his family when Dean fails to satisfy him.

Alastair grabs his collar and yanks him forward; sending a surge of pain through his shoulder joints and for a moment his vision is swarmed with white. “I had a lot of patience with you.” Alastair is close, too close, and he can feel the cold of his breath against his skin, shivering wet and disgusting. He tries to think of something good, thinks of Cas’ mouth at the same spot, but Cas would never make his skin crawl like that.  

“I gave you time to play house, let you pretend you could be normal, which, let’s be honest, we both know you are not. And even though I was patient, you still thought you could cut ties with me you ungrateful little shit? I told you, there’s no way out, not even for you. I don’t know how you managed to disappear from my system in the first place, but I won’t allow such indiscretion in the future, are we clear?”

Dean growls, tries to move his face away from Alastair, but all that gets him is a vise-hand on his chin holding him in place.

“Are we clear?”

Fuck him and his power games.  But there is nothing for it, not now at least. Alastair likes a bit of resistance, actually the whole point of his torture is to break resistance, the more there is, the more fun he has. But this about something else. This is about power and dominance. And for Alastair, both have to be absolute.

He grounds out a yes that leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. He wishes he could have spit it into Alastair’s face, but he also knows better. Fuck, he’s like a conditioned dog or something.

“Good.” Alastair drops his hand, dismissive, like Dean isn’t even worth his attention. “I see hope is not yet lost.” He lifts the knife he still holds in his hand, and Dean can’t help it, but he flinches. It’s been years, but he has had enough nightmares that like to remind him how much there is to fear about that knife.

And damn Alastair for knowing that Dean would react like that, because he spent days engraving that response into his body. And apparently that had been the reaction he had been aiming for, because he just smirks one more time, before he walks out.

And with that he’s alone again.

* * *

 

It’s all part of the game. At first he had thought Alastair leaving was a good thing, because no Alastair meant no torture, but now he’s not so sure anymore. Because being alone means that there is nothing to distract him from his thoughts and the constant pain he’s in.

And his thoughts have been circling for what feels like hours now, the throbbing at the back of his head ceased to a numb pressure, barely even there, but that is about the only blessing he can count. It’s hard to tell how long he’s been here, the light doesn’t change, and there’s nothing to measure time with. Judging from the state of his clothes, hours must have passed. He’s mostly dry now, but his jeans are still damp in some spots, and he can’t stop shivering.

He keeps an eye out constantly, in case Alastair comes back, but so far there hasn’t even been as much as a rodent gracing him with their presence, and he seriously starts to wonder if that’s the plan. Just let him hang here until he either dies of dehydration or if he collapses before that and suffers suspension trauma. Or maybe his arms just rip off at some point. It sure as hell feels like that.

At this point he can’t even distinguish anymore which parts of his body hurt and which don’t. He just feels like a big ball of pain, and that’s messed up in itself, because Alastair hasn’t even started the torture yet. But then again, Dean already concluded that this is all part of the game. Wear him down until he breaks, and knowing Alastair, that’s when the ‘real fun’ starts.

He tries thinking of Cas, imagining him in his flower shop, surrounded by bees and blissfully oblivious to the danger he’s in.  But thinking of Cas also reminds him of how screwed he actually is, because Alastair is a ruthless bastard and won’t shy away from threatening Dean’s family, and he’ll never forgive himself if something happens to Cas. Or Sam. Or Bobby.

And he already had his hands on Cas.

Dean takes a deep breath. Tries to relax his shoulders (in vain). He needs to think.  Focus. Okay, what are his options? He’s chained up in a pretty bad position, technically he could pick the padlock keeping the chains together, but he would have to reach the lock first, and yeah, he’s still working on that. (Not to mention he’s lacking a lock pick.)

Deep breath.

Options.

He’s got to have them.

There must be something here that can help him. Come on Winchester, think. He tries to stand up on his toes, as high as possible, in order to grab the chains with his hands. It feels as if he’s ripping off his arms as he does, and he’s not quite sure what the merits of this are either, but at this point he’s grateful for any kind of progress. He tries to shift his weight, to gain some momentum, to maybe turn around and see what’s behind him, and he totally should have predicted that this would be pretty painful. He actually sees stars for a few moments, when white hot pain shoots through his back and arms. His wrists are chafed raw, and it feels like he’s down to his bones by now.

At least he knows now what’s behind him. Which doesn’t really help, at all. So much for his options.

He takes another deep breath, but it lacks its calming effect. His legs are trembling with weakness, and he doubts they’ll carry him much longer. And he doubts he’ll last much longer when his whole weight is put on his already straining arms. He almost wishes for Alastair to return at this point. Everything is better than this.

* * *

 

He’s in a state of semi-consciousness, drifting in and out of awareness. Has been for a while now, time slugging on at a snail’s pace. The pain is dimmed now, as are his senses, like everything’s muffled under a blanket. His legs feel heavy, like dead weight and he has long given up on trying to move them. 

His thoughts circle around Cas again, Cas in his trench coat, Cas naked on their bed, Cas with a flower crone, Cas smiling, Cas eating pie, Cas dancing in the rain. He’s delirious, must be, because there‘s no way that Cas could be here, in the dusty air of the warehouse, right in front of him. Dean blinks, but he’s still there, only he’s standing on his other side, trench coat flapping as if it were wings in a breeze he can’t feel.

“Cas.” His voice hurts, the sound hurts in his ears, like rusty nails dragged over a chalk board and Cas shakes his head. There’s a smile, but there’s also sharp jagged edges, like teeth made of shattered glass, and then Cas reaches out to touch Dean, but there is blood on his hand and his face, and a big stain of blood spreads over his heart, and he’s on his knees, hands reaching up as if in prayer, and there’s a knife in his heart, a silver knife with a razor sharp edge.

He jerks awake with a silent scream on his lips, eyes wide and panting as he takes in the emptiness of the warehouse around him. No Cas. No death. Just him, the smelly interior of an empty warehouse and a body full of pain.

It feels like he’s burning up from the inside, and that’s just his luck. But what did he expect from getting drenched with water in the middle of a cold and empty warehouse?

Sweat’s beading on his forehead, at least he thinks it is, if it’s not then he has apparently little ants running down his face. He ignores the urge to shake his head until he feels clean again, because he doubts his arms will take that kindly. And he wouldn’t really say he’s relieved when a bead of salty water burns in his eyes, but yeah, he’s totally relieved.

He feels dizzy, the world swimming in and out of focus, and he can’t quite concentrate his thoughts. And it’s so freaking hot, he can’t breathe, it’s like something’s constricting his airways, like a vise on his lungs. It’s hard to see straight, everything’s blurry and the world is tilted sideways.

Time passes, at least he thinks it does, it’s hard to tell really. He keeps drifting in and out of consciousness, sometimes there is Cas in what must be his dreams, and he wants to cry because Cas is bleeding again, looking at him with wide eyes and it hurts, because Cas is talking but he can’t hear him. But then he jerks awake again, the pain only a dim echo, but he’s cold now, so cold, and he’s shaking violently, chains clinking, but he can’t stop, he just can’t stop.

The pain in his chest is still there, every breath is a sick wet sound, and it transports him back to that time when Sammy had pneumonia and Dean had refused to leave his hospital bed. Dad had been so furious, because Dean had let him play out in the rain and if Sam died it would have been all his fault.

And then he starts coughing.

It’s like his body is ripped apart from within. His sides hurt, his ribs hurt, everything just hurts and he can’t stop coughing. Maybe that was Alastair’s plan from the beginning. Why else would he splash him with the water? It’s not exactly warm in here, and there are enough holes in the construction to allow for a nasty draft. He can’t keep his head up; it’s too heavy, like the rest of his body. His legs have given in hours ago, or maybe it was minutes, it’s so hard to tell. He can’t really feel them anymore and maybe that’s for the best. His feet are dark, and he seriously hopes that’s only dirt, even if it’s questionable dirt from Alastair’s torture chamber floor.

He coughs again, and this time he barely feels the pain that shoots through his arms at the movement.

Cas is back and Dean must be asleep again, because the chains are gone and the warehouse is gone too. They’re surrounded by darkness, a whirling mess of shadows and the only clear point is Cas in front of him. But the darkness is reaching out for him, he’s blurring at the edges, legs already half disappearing in the shadows.

Dean tries to move, to walk closer to Cas, but his own legs have been swallowed too and he can’t move, he can just watch as Cas gets sucked into the void. He’s screaming, but no sound falls from his lips, he tries to reach out to grasp Cas’ hands, but even though he can move his arm, the distance is too great. Cas is saying something, there’s fear in his eyes and his mouth moves faster, as if he’s screaming and Dean can make out one word now, one word, again and again.

Dean.

And then he’s gone, darkness wallowing up around him until nothing’s left. Just shadowy tendrils, slithering through the empty air. There’s a high wallowing sound, high pitched and penetrating. Dean feels his legs give way under him, and he falls to his knees, the darkness surging up hungrily to take what is given to it, but it doesn’t advance further. The sound stops as abruptly as it came, and the silence that’s left behind is absolute.

This time when he wakes up he lies in a bed, and for a moment he thinks that everything was just a fever-induced dream, that he’s safe at home with his family. But he doesn’t know the ceiling above him, and something tells him he’s not in a hospital. He’s still fuzzy, body unnatural heavy, head filled with cotton and it’s way too warm. Not to mention that his whole body hurts pretty badly. That’s also the reason why he thinks he’s not dreaming this time, because everything else surely feels like it.

But it doesn’t make sense for him to be in a bed, and somehow the part of him being suspended has transitioned with him to this place, because he can’t move, and maybe that’s just because he still feels weak as fuck, but something tells him that’s not the reason. He can’t focus; everything keeps blurring, and moving, even just to move his head sends waves of dizziness through his head. 

He feels heavy, like there is a weight on his chest and there’s a sound, some sort of wet rattling and it takes him longer than it should be to realize that it’s his breath. It’s way too warm, but at the same time he feels like he’s freezing. There’s a blanket on top of him and it’s as if he’s suffocating. He can’t even move his arms to push it down, and now he’s sure that he’s suspended, because he can feel something cool and metal around his wrists, rattling every time he tries to move his arms.

He manages to turn his head around to get a look of the room, but the scenery immediately starts to swim in front of his eyes. He forces his eyes shut until his head clears up and he takes a lot of care in blinking them open again. He feels like some sort of small animal, a newborn mouse or something, unable to move on his own and practically helpless.

It’s not a feeling he particularly likes.

But all that comes crashing down on him when he sees the figure standing next to the door, leaning idly against the wall and even though the world still swims in and out of focus, even though his mind is all woozy and unfocused, he can see the dark little smirk on Alastair’s face.

It’s the last thing he sees before he drifts back into a fitful sleep filled with nightmares.


	25. Chapter 25

He can’t decide if things actually got better or worse, the only thing that he can really say is that he feels like shit. Which doesn’t say anything at all, because he had been feeling like shit even before he fell sick. He keeps drifting in and out of conscience, at least that’s what he thinks he does, maybe he just drifts from dream to dream; it’s really hard to tell. Cas is no longer the only visitor in his dreams, there are other, darker figures, some are strangers, but some come from his past, and it’s them that he fears the most.

He can’t escape his dreams for long, and as harsh as waking up into reality is, as much as he fears the sight of Alastair waiting patiently for god knows what, it’s still better than the torment in his nightmares. And maybe Alastair is just a figment of his dreams too, because sometimes he’s there and sometime he isn’t, and his brain is too muddled to actually make sense out of it.

Maybe there simply is no sense.

But then it’s weird dreamscapes again, sometimes there is Cas, sometimes there isn’t, sometimes he’s running, sometimes he’s fighting and then there are those dreams in which he doesn’t do much of anything. He just watches helplessly as his greatest fears come true.  It’s these he always seems to wake from, with a start and the fading sense of panic, but maybe that’s just another dream too. He has vague recollections of being moved too, for bathroom breaks most likely, and he really doesn’t want to think about that, because if there’s someone he wouldn’t ever trust with his decency, it’s Alastair and his men.

Alastair is gone the next time he wakes to the room. He doesn’t feel as bad anymore, but that just means the room doesn’t immediately spin around him when he tries to move. Other than that he still feels miserable. His body hurts, that’s nothing new, but now there is a deep sitting ache in his joints, like he’s some old man with arthritis.

He feels more lucid than he has in a long time, even though he’s still a little fuzzy around the edges. But he’s not tired, not risky-to-fall-asleep-any-moment tired at least, and that’s about as much progress as he’s likely to get anytime soon. And that gives him time to think.

First of all, why the fuck is he here and not in the warehouse? Alastair couldn’t possibly care this much to get him accommodated just because he’s a little sick. Especially after he made it so much a point to show his disappointment in Dean. And they must have been treating him too, because he feels better, and he doubts that it’s solely thanks to the nice cozy bed. 

Dean carefully tests the reach of his new bonds, to assess the options this situation gives him. There’s a blanket covering him, and he can’t really see it, but judging by the clinking sound (and the painful burning he gets every time he moves), they’re metal handcuffs, connecting his hands to the rails at the side of the bed. His feet are free however, and that might or might not come in handy.

If only he wouldn’t feel so damn weak. Like a newborn kitten or something. Wait, no more animal analogies, he’s not some helpless critter in a trap. He tries to sit up, but that’s easier said than done, because he has no fucking strength. He doesn’t even want to think about all the muscles he burned up during his fever. But he manages to sit up eventually, and thank the mother of fucking pie, he’s actually clothed. Even if said clothes are completely unfamiliar. It’s all about counting blessings after all.

Or maybe not so much.

He feels so fucking dirty now, not just dirty as in sweaty and lacking a shower dirty, but actual gross like ants crawling under his skin dirty. Because there’s no way that those bastards haven’t touched him inappropriately, because Alastair’s a sick fuck who gets off on shit like that.

But right now he’s alone and he’s going to make the best of that situation, now that he’s finally in a more favorable position. If only by a stretch. He looks around the room for anything that might help him, but as far as he can tell the room is empty aside from the bed. The bed seems like one of those hospital beds from Dr. Sexy, with the rails at the side that are usually there to prevent people from falling off. And sure enough, after a more or less acrobatic attempt at looking under the bed he can now confirm, yes the bed has rolls.

Way to go there Winchester.

That doesn’t really constitute as progress, not unless he’s able to roll his way out of here, wherever here is. Which means he’s back to squat. There has to be something here that could help him. If he could just get his hands on a needle or something, a hairclip, fuck, a toenail would be enough. Okay probably not a toenail, but at this point he would go for it. He has a few tricks up his sleeve when it comes to picking locks, one thing he can contribute to his father’s training, but yeah, without a pick, that will only get him this far.

Maybe he actually should try to roll his way out of here.

Dean examines the bed as best as it is possible from his position, tries to find anything that might help him (aside from obviously useless rolls), but it’s not really a surprise that he comes up short. Alastair is a pro at this, he wouldn’t overlook something that might help Dean, and he certainly wouldn’t leave him alone in the room when he would think that Dean could escape. Come to think of it, there’s no way at all that Alastair would him leave unsupervised in a room like this. And fuck him for not thinking of that earlier, but there is a camera mounted in one corner, and he really must be out of the loop to have missed that.

He slumps back down onto the bed with a sigh, a very frustrated sigh. He has to close his eyes for a moment, his endeavor, however short, has left him on short breath and he really doesn’t need the world spinning right now. Or ever, for that matter. It takes him longer than he cares to admit to settle enough so that he can open his eyes again, and when he does he wished he’d just taken another nap.

“I knew you had gotten weak, but this is nothing short of pathetic.” Lilith chides, an icy smile playing on her lips as she takes in his evidently pathetic state. She’s leaning against the wall, in the exact same spot Alastair had stood earlier. The shark-like grin on her face is very unlike Alastair though.

“You used to be one of our best.” She shakes her head derisively. “And now look at you. Dump a bit of water on you and you fold like a paper crane.”

“Here’s another one I didn’t miss one bit.” Dean groans, wishing not for the first time to be someplace entirely else, hell, even the fucking warehouse is more preferable to being in close vicinity to Lilith.

Lilith tsks and looks down pointedly at the cuffs around his wrists. “You’re in no position to be snarky Winchester, but by all means, do continue. I’d like to see how long it lasts.” There is an ominous note in her voice, and Dean’s suspicion only gets confirmed when the door behind her pushes open and a man rolls in one of those metal carts with trays on it. The kind that usually carries sharp medical instruments during medical procedures that usually require anesthesia.

The man just rolls the cart in next to the bed and leaves without giving either of them a second glance, but Dean is way more focused on what is actually on that cart. “Not to say I wasn’t thrilled when I heard you left.” Lilith continues while she takes a pair of rubber gloves from the middle tray and pulls them on. All clinical and routine, she’s even wearing a lab coat. “Alastair always gave you too much latitude in my opinion, but I think he finally saw his mistake.”

She smirks, and there’s a horrible suspicion dawning on Dean, not that there was much room to guess to begin with. What with the whole setup and the medical instruments (sharp and pointy) laid out on the cart. But there’s a difference between being tortured by an amateur and someone who has been trained by Alastair. Dean knows the difference far too well.

“And I’m pretty sure it’s not too far-fetched to say I did a way better job at being Alastair’s second in command as you did. There’s this thing called loyalty you should probably read up on.”

“What d’you have to do to get the promotion? Spread your legs?” Dean is pretty sure that taunting her is the wrong thing to do, but he just can’t help it. Lilith irks him, always has, and now that she’s apparently climbed another peck on the ranking, she’s even more insufferable. And Dean would do about anything to knock her off her high horse.

Lilith’s smirk falters, just a fraction but nevertheless. “At least I didn’t have to play guinea pig.” She runs a finger along the sleek metal line of some sort of metal poker, examining it with curious care, but Dean is pretty sure that she’s putting on the show specifically for him. Like they used to do back in the medieval ages, show the victim the torture instruments beforehand, maybe they’d confess without having to shed blood.

The thought isn’t reassuring at all, since he’s pretty damn sure that Lilith is out for blood.

“See Dean, he never really trusted you. That’s why he put you through the meat grinder before he let you in on the fun.” She finally picks something from the tray, a long silver needle with a curved end, eying it almost like a mother would look at her child, before she lifts it to her mouth and kisses it. Dean cringes.

“Don’t you dare put that inside of me, bitch.” He threatens, and is that fucking lipstick on the metal? He tries to pull away as she approaches, but he can’t really go far, and his struggles only seem to amuse her more.

“I however, had his trust from the beginning, and once he saw my natural talent,” she hooks the tipped curve under the collar of Dean’s shirt and pulls, and the fabric gives way with a ripping sound. There’s actually a small sharpened section, like a blade, along the curve, and somehow that makes it this much scarier, because now it’s no longer about poking, but cutting.

(Alastair never left scars, but Lilith isn’t here to test his endurance, she’s here to prove a point.)

“He gave me the position and responsibility I deserve.” She flicks her wrists and the bottom seam rips apart, leaving his chest exposed to her calculating gaze.

“I would congratulate you on your achievement, but I’m kind of tied up right now.” If everything fails, he can at least hide behind his bravado. The grin he forces on his cheeks feels brittle at best, but Lilith was never as sharp as Alastair and judging by the unhappy frown that almost gets lost between all that Botox, she’s actually buying it.

“He warned me about that attitude of yours.” She drags one manicured nail over his skin, pushing enough to leave a fading line no doubt, but at least she won’t ruin her precious nails by actually drawing blood. The way she’s looking at him, she’s seriously contemplating it, but at least she’s got her priorities straight.

But of course she doesn’t need her claws to mark him up. Which she promptly proves.

Dean thought he was prepared for the pain, but it turns out he isn’t. Not even close. The first cut isn’t even so bad, like a thick injection needle, and it’s pretty painful alright, but nothing he can’t handle, that is until she twists the needle and hooks the tip under his skin and _pulls_. Dean actually screams, it’s only a short burst before he manages to bite down on it, but it’s a scream nonetheless. And Lilith soaks it up like it’s the essence of youth.

“He also told me that it’s just a façade.”

She smirks with way too much teeth and Dean just waits for her to lick the blood from the needle.

“You disappoint me Dean. I was expecting you would hold out a little bit longer.” She pulls her lips into a pout, as fake as most of her body.

Dean grimaces, trying to even out his breathing and assess the damage. Lilith drew a more or less straight line down his chest, blood already pooling in the dip of his ribcage. But that is, of course, just the beginning. It reminds him of that one scene in Star Wars when they tortured Han and Leia, just for the fun of it. Only they had this weird ball thing with needles and injections.

Okay, not helping.

“Yeah sorry about that. But being sick sometimes has that effect.”

“Right, _that._ ” She shrugs dismissively, twirling the needle in her hands as if she couldn’t quite decide where to continue. “Took you long enough to recover. We even got you a bed. But knowing you, I don’t even expect gratitude.” She flicks the needle, ridding it of the remaining droplets of blood.

Dean snorts, but doesn’t react otherwise. Lilith is a bitch, and as much as he wants to tell her what he thinks of her, he feels too tired and drained to put up much of a fight. He’s still sick, the sweat on his skin has cooled and he can barely suppress a shiver. Lilith’s whole presence is way too bright and loud for his tired head. The cut on his chest still hurts, but it’s more like a slight burning now, and since he’s already pushing a lot of pain into the back of his mind, it doesn’t take much to ignore that one too.

He just wants to fall back to sleep, dreamless this time, and wake up again when he’s well again. No scratching throat, no more pelt on his tongue, no more aching joints, okay he should probably stop listing his ailments, because thinking of them just reminds him that he’s actually hurting, quite badly.

His weakness must show, because Lilith is smirking again, her seemingly too many rows of teeth making her look like a shark again. “Don’t back out on me now darling. We were having so much fun together.” She purrs and jams the needle back into his skin without so much as a warning. Dean jerks violently, metal clanging and legs flailing as he tries to get away, just away, and she might just have punctured his heart and he can’t breathe and it just hurts-

There’s something, a small piece of information that registers somewhere in the back of his mind, something small and very important, but it’s drowned out by the pain, the flashes of black in front of his eyes and the grating sound of Lilith’s laughter as she twists the needle around.

He must have blacked out, because the next thing Dean registers is Lilith’s face way too close up for comfort, lips pulled into a snarl and the fading sting on his cheek tells him exactly how she got him awake again. “You’ve really gone soft.” Lilith spits out, voice dripping with anger, as if he had just done it to personally offend her.

Dean grimaces, tries to move away from her, but his movements are halted when pain erupts in his chest, the needle still buried firmly somewhere between his ribs. There’s cold sweat on his face, not from the fever this time, but from the fear of how it will feel when she pulls it out again. It was worse enough when she was just cutting skin, but this is something else. And he’s in no condition to take the pain, he’s sick and weak, lacking energy, because there’s no way those fuckers actually fed him properly during his sickness. And he’s constantly losing fluid, his throat feels parched in addition to sore and it’s a fucking effort to actually keep focused on Lilith’s face.

“I haven’t even _begun_ to play with you and you’re already giving in. Is that really all you can manage?” She twists her hand, moving the needle inside of him and Dean has to bite down hard on his lip to keep from screaming, tasting blood after effectively adding another injury to his already long list. It’s like she’s ripping apart his lungs, white hot pain, bursting through his body and for a moment all he sees is black.

“Alastair promised me.” She snaps, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets as she stares at him with all her fury. It would be ridiculous in any other situation, how worked up she gets over the fact that her toy isn’t as durable as she wants it to be, but Dean can’t really appreciate that now. He’s too busy trying to get his lungs back to work “ He said you would be  _fun_ , that you wouldn’t break like the others. He said I could play with you until I was bored.”

She yanks the needle out in one clean motion and this time Dean doesn’t attempt to hold back his scream. There’s a hole in his chest, a hole with jagged edges and he thinks he sees something white in there, white like bones and he has to fight nausea in addition to the blackness now. He’s vaguely aware that he’s flailing again and there is a clatter of sound in the air and his legs catch with something as they flail around. And all of a sudden the puzzle piece falls into place and he reacts without thinking.

He yanks his leg back, foot catching with the rail of the cart and he pushes the whole thing against Lilith’s back, sending the medical instruments fly around the room. It’s not nearly enough force to knock Lilith off her feet, he’s too exhausted for that, but that wasn’t really the plan to begin with. As much as he can actually claim he had a plan in the first place.

Most of the instruments flew right over him, but a few have actually landed on top of him. Everything is just pain, but he hasn’t come this far to give up now, so while Lilith is busy spitting furious insults in his face and slapping him a few times, he searches with his hands until he finally, miraculously, locates one that has landed close enough. He doesn’t know what it is, just that it’s long, metallic and thank whatever god is listening, it’s thin. And it’s sharp, but at this point another cut on his finger doesn’t really matter. He carefully hides it under his wrist, hoping that Lilith won’t check her equipment for any missing pieces.

“How dare you?” Lilith yells, but relents from slapping him again. “I will make you pay for this.” She hisses as she steps back from him, casting one seething glance at the mess in the room, not even bothering to take the scalpel away that’s lying on his chest, before she twirls around and stomps out of the room, completely ignoring the turned over cart on the floor. Apparently Alastair never taught her that some toys fight back.

Dean closes his eyes for a moment. He might have procured this small victory, but he doubts it’ll get him far in his condition. He might have to put that to the test though. There’s no way he’s going to stay here any longer if he can help it.

But he can’t do anything now - Lilith, or whoever is in charge, won’t leave him alone long after this, if only to make sure that he doesn’t do something stupid with the arsenal of weapons Lilith left him with essentially. But the least he can do is uphold the pretense. Especially since there still is a camera trained on him.

He wiggles a bit, trying to get the scalpel on his chest closer to his head by lifting his lower body up from the bed. It almost sends him into a blackout again, but he grits his teeth through it, forcing his thoughts onto something pleasant, car parts, Cas, Sammy’s smile, pie, _Cas_.

The scalpel slides a few inches on the blood coagulating on his chest, resting now low under his collar bones and if he just tilts his head right he might reach it with his mou-

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” A cool voice says from the door and Dean slumps down with a groan. Of all the people they could have sent, they sent _her_. And it’s not that she’s the worst of Alistair’s stock, because she’s not, it’s just because somehow she knows exactly how to get under his skin, without ever using a knife.

“Meg.” He isn’t sure if he should roll his eyes or be glad that at least no one will carve him open any time soon. Meg prefers subtler way of torturing, mainly by annoying the shit out of him. She used to be Alastair’s favorite, but at some point before he joined the gang she decided to concentrate on other tasks, leaving the spot open for Dean to take.

“You don’t look so good.” She comments as she snatches the scalpel away from his chest, giving the wound on his chest a disdainful look. “Like you had just had a wrestling match with one of Alastair’s dogs.”

“Nice to see you too.” Dean grunts, and adjusts his position that doesn’t upset one of his wounds. Which to his incredible luck, is impossible obviously.  

“Come on Dean, we both know that you prefer me over sweet Lilith and dear Alastair any time of the day.” Meg tosses the scalpel down on the ground, not caring to even pretend she’s interested in cleaning up Lilith’s mess.  There’s the unspoken rule amongst Alastair’s gang to never leave Meg and Lilith alone in one room together.

“That’s not really an achievement considering your competitors.”

“True. So what did you do to make Lilith flip tables?” She leans back against the wall, arms crossed and an easy smile on her lips. Dean is sure she isn’t just here to satisfy her curiosity, but also to keep an eye on him.

“Why would I tell you?”

 “Don’t play hard to get, it doesn’t suit you.”

“What, you want some tips on how to drive her up the wall?”

“Please, I’d just like to know if any of what I taught you actually stuck.”

Dean goes with the eye roll this time. Meg isn’t any less dangerous than the others when it comes to thwarting his escape plans, but she was the only one he had some sort of camaraderie with, even though she annoyed him like no other. But she at least had something comparable to common sense and she laughed at his jokes, occasionally.

And he kind of liked her, when she wasn’t busy getting under his skin. She also had this uncanny ability of always sensing when something was up, she was even worse than Jo when it came to that. And she noticed things that slipped past the others, which made it an actual miracle that she hadn’t yet noticed the sharp object he hid under his wrist. He had been able to smear off the blood from his cut earlier, so at least that couldn’t give him away.

“Awww Dean, I thought you trusted me.”

“Sorry sweet cheeks, but as long as you’re with the crazy lot I’ll keep my hands off.”

“Dean you wound me. I thought what we had was special.” She wipes away fake tears from her cheek. “Was it something I did? Is there something else? You cheated on me with Lilith, didn’t you? Oh Dean, you heartbreaker.”

“What can I say? Her fake teeth and boobs just were too much for me to handle.”

Meg laughs, but it only lasts about a second before she instantly grows serious. “Alastair has a lot planned for you Dean and I’m pretty sure you’ll like none of it.” She looks at him,but only after a minute flicker to the mounted camera. And there is something in her eyes, as if she’s trying to convey something without words, as if she wants him to tell something that she can’t possibly say out loud.

For some reason he remembers a conversation, between two of Alastair’s goons, he listened in on. How they didn’t trust Meg, because she was strange, because she always seemed to have her own agenda, and how they couldn’t understand why she would ever give up her place of power. And then one of their higher-ups had shown up and told them to shut up, that if the boss trusted Meg they’d better too.

There’s a message in there, a secret that he has to uncover, but his head is still filled with cotton and he can’t quite think straight, it seems all his brain has been used up with the effort to make witty comments.

“Alastair is out of town, has taken quite the entourage with him, but he’ll come pay you a visit once he’s back. I’m supposed to tell you that you better be fit when he returns, he doesn’t like to play with wounded prey.” Meg grimaces slightly, clearly not happy with the choice of words. There’s an oddity to it and how she deliberately put herself in a position that makes her face indiscernible from the camera’s viewpoint.

“Thanks, I guess.” Dean answers, acting for all the world as if the news doesn’t bother him, but the truth is that he can barely hold it together at this point. Lilith had been a sneak preview on what was to come and he already knew he wouldn’t like it. The truth is, he’s pretty much at the end of his line and terrified as hell.

Meg looks for a moment as if she wants to smile, but there is a kind of sadness in her features, but the expression melts away almost instantly. “Anyway I’m going to bother Lilith now; I want to know what you did to her.” She gives him a two fingered salute, glancing one more time at the camera before turning to leave, but she hesitates for a second at the door, looking back at him and then, “Take care Dean.” She sounds almost soft and Dean suddenly realizes what he’s been missing.

She’s trying to help him. By telling him that Alastair isn’t here, along with most of his men, that Lilith will be distracted, that _Lilith_ _and Meg_ will be distracted and with that all the big players are accounted for. That also means that he doesn’t have much time, and his original plan on resting a bit before, seems to have become unattainable. The thing he doesn’t understand though, is _why_. Why in the devil’s name would she even consider helping him? Sure, the talk had been there, but Alastair trusts her, and she has no reason to go betray him. So maybe it’s a trap?

Fuck, he can’t bother with that right now. He can barely stay conscious as it is, he certainly won’t solve this puzzle in his condition, and he damn well hasn’t the time to even attempt it. He isn’t even sure if he’ll be able to pull the shit necessary to get him out of here, because even lying down he can tell that he’s weak, not to mention that he’s overall sore, bleeding from a nasty cut on his chest and an even worse hole somewhere too close to his heart, his head is still suffering from a near-concussion an don’t even get him started on his fever/flu/pneumonia /whatever the fuck that was-episode.

It’s safe to say he’s a wreck.

And all he can do is hope that no one is watching him through the camera right now.

It’s time to get to work before the wish to just stay that way becomes too powerful.

Dean keeps an eye out for the door while he carefully fumbles with the needle thing. Not that it would help him that much, the time it takes to open the door is not nearly enough for him to hide the evidence again, but it gives him at least a pretense of safety. He can only use one hand, and since there’s not a chance in hell he’ll get this shit done with his left hand (not in his condition at least), he has to awkwardly try and pass the needle into his dominant hand.

And that was the easy part.

Now is about the time to be grateful for John and all his relentless training, forcing his kids to perfect their lock picking skills, because yeah, picking locks is the most important skill for any kid to know and John won’t accept anything less than perfection. Meaning he can pick a freaking lock one handed with his arms tied behind his back. Or something like that.

It takes a lot of fumbling and twisting his wrist to put the needle in the lock on his handcuffs, and that’s not even counting the times he accidentally stabs himself with the damn thing. By the time he finally manages to undo the lock, his hands are slick with blood and he feels like he played catch with a needle pillow. But he has a free hand now and that makes picking the last lock a piece of cake.

And that still wasn’t the hardest part.

He moves slowly, first pushing himself into sitting on the edge of the bed, before he even attempts to stand up. Dean allows a second to marvel at the fact that so far no one has burst in through the door to prevent his escape, but whatever Meg did, it must hold. His legs nearly give out on the first try and he has to catch himself as not to fall down on the arsenal of sharp objects on the floor. Really, Lilith has thought of anything. Various knives and needles, hooks and saws and a few other things Dean really doesn’t want to know what their intended use is.

(He could think of a few, he has seen far too many ‘creative’ things in his time.)

But at least he won’t have to go unarmed. (Better not to think about how little a knife will help him against a gun.) The wounds on his chest have stopped bleeding but he doesn’t have any illusions about it staying that way. The crusts are fresh and that means as soon as he’s moving around they will open again. He wastes a few minutes with cutting the rest of his shirt into bandages and wrapping it around his chest. He wraps the severed sleeves around his wrists, wincing at the contact, but they’re bleeding too much and it won’t do good if he leaves an easy to follow trace behind.

He takes the biggest knife and two scalpels as his spare weapons, pushing the latter two under the bandages over his chest. And then it’s time for the truth, and Dean can’t help but think that from all the dumb shit he’s gotten himself into, this got to be the worst. And there’s so much that could just go wrong from this point on, he has no idea where he even is and a guy with dirty pants and bloody bandages around his chest is not exactly subtle. But he can’t stay here, he needs to get out and warn his family.

More importantly, to do what he should have done a long time ago, sic Jody on the bastard; consequences be damned.

And he better not start and think about what might happen if Alastair catches him.

Dean takes careful steps towards the door, mindful of the sharp objects littering the floor and cursing inwardly about his lack of shoes. But in his situation he probably can be glad that he at least has pants. There’s a tense moment as he opens the door, but the corridor behind is thankfully empty.

It’s maybe too much to call it corridor, just a stretch of empty room with a few doors and a staircase at one end. The doors are closed, and Dean isn’t exactly inclined to find out if he’s alone on the floor or not. He grabs the knife tighter, but he has the slight suspicion that should it come to using it, he’ll most likely fail. As it is he needs to hold on to the wall to keep steady, his muscles keep protesting and his vision blacks out more than once. He repeats Meg’s words in his head like a mantra, Alastair is out of town and Lilith is busy with Meg. He’s safe, they can’t hurt him. He’ll get out of here.

As it turns out he almost thwarts his own plans by falling down the stairs.

He’s barely able to catch his fall, nails digging painfully into the wall as he stumbles down a few steps, slamming with his side into the wall when his fingers catch on the railing. At this point he’s just hurting, there’s not a spot on him that isn’t complaining or screaming with agony and he hasn’t even made it down the stairs yet.

There’s no way of telling how much time has passed since Meg has left him, but it can’t be too late, can it? He’s got to have some time left. Step after step, one foot after the other. It’s a slow and arduous process, he’s more falling down than actually stepping but he reaches the ground eventually. Dean knows he should check his surroundings, make sure he doesn’t walk into any nasty surprises, but all he can think of is to get out of there.

The door is right in front of him, just another stretch of room in front of him, past two openings, one on each side. And there could be anything behind those openings, but he’s too tired to even bother looking. He’s lost the knife somewhere on the way, probably on the staircase, and he isn’t sure if he’ll be able to reach his backups should he need them.

That no one came after he created such a ruckus, must mean that the coast is clear.

He stumbles forward, leaning heavily against the wall, but he has to stop when he reaches the opening on his side. He has to bridge the gap somehow, preferably without crawling or falling on his face. Dean braces himself against the wall, setting his feet as far away from the wall as possible before he shoves himself off of the wall, tipping forward, stumbling and falling right against the opposite side of the opening.

God fucking damn it; at least no one saw that.

“What the…?” There’s a voice and Dean realizes with belated surprise that the room he’s just passed had not been empty. How the man missed the earlier noise is beyond him. “Hey, you’re not supposed to be here. How the hell did you even get out?” The man comes at him, Dean is barely able to make out his features, let alone figure out how to get rid of him. The man reaches out to grab him, he’s still talking, but Dean can’t hear him over the buzzing in his ears. And then he’s touching him, hand digging in his shoulder and Dean just reacts, fueled purely by instinct and the hours of training Dad put him through. He yanks the man forward by his arm, catching him off guard and the man stumbles against him arm, one of Dean’s hands caught awkwardly between them.

The man freezes, all his weight suddenly on Dean, and they collapse together to the ground, something warm and wet dripping over Dean, and there is something cold and hard in his hand. He can’t move, not with the heavy weight on top of him and it’s suffocating, he scrambles to get him of, but everything is wet and slippery and he can’t breathe with the overwhelming stench of blood in his nose.

Somehow, he doesn’t remember how, he manages to crawl out from under him, the scalpel still in his hand, and that’s just another thing he can’t remember, when and how he pulled it in the first place, but he must have, because the man is dead and Dean is soaked with blood.

But he can’t stop and work through that right now, he can’t waste time on psychoanalyzing his reaction to killing yet another person either. Because no matter how bad a thug he was, he was still a person and Dean had never wanted to kill another human being again.

And the worst part is that he probably should consider himself lucky, that he only ran into one person, because no matter how many fever-induced superpowers he might unlock, he doubts he would have been able to take on two. He’s not even sure how he took on this one, aside from weird fever-induced superpowers, but that’s not a real thing, at least he thinks it isn’t. It’s so hard to concentrate; everything just feels so fuzzy in his brain.

He would fall asleep right then and there, he’s sure of that, weren’t it for the constant pain he’s in. There’s a tight feeling in his chest and throat, and he has to fight the urge to hack his lungs out more than once, not to mention the various aches and bruises he carries around with him. And through all of that he feels like he’s burning up from the inside, the fever must have flared again, and while his skin is soaked with cold sweat, he doesn’t feel a shred of cold. He can’t rest, not when he’s still hurting, not when he’s still not safe.

Rationally he knows he should search the man’s clothes for weapons, something more reliable than a scalpel that’s slippery with blood, but considering the effort it takes him already to just get up on his feet again, he doubts he can handle the weight of a gun, let alone the backlash of firing one.  He gets to the front door, the same way he got down the stairs, without any memories of ever doing it.

Pushing the front door open is one of the hardest things he’s ever done. He doesn’t even have the energy left to wonder why the door was even unlocked in the first place; Alastair would never allow such a blunder. It’s dark outside, it must be night. The air is cold, late summer, on the verge of fall and the blood on his skin has cooled into nothing more than a sticky uncomfortable mess.

He walks. That’s all he can focus on. He walks. He can’t say how long he’s been walking or in which direction. For all he knows he could have been walking in a circle the whole time. There’s just the pavement underneath him, endless pavement and as long as there is pavement he’ll walk. The scalpel is long gone too, lost somewhere on the way and he should maybe be worried about leaving traces, but then he would have to stop walking to focus his attention on something else than his legs. He can’t feel his feet anymore, at least his legs must be the cold then, but the rest of him feels strangely warm, as if his skin is on fire.  

Dean doesn’t know how he managed to stay upright for so long (or maybe  he just imagines it being so long, maybe only a few minutes have passed), and it’s when he hears muffled voices that he realizes he’s lying on the ground. He must have stumbled and fallen, but he can’t recall any of it. His head is throbbing, there seems to be some form of mist in front of his eyes, he can’t see, no matter how hard he tries.

The voices draw nearer, and all Dean can think of is that he’s failed, that Alastair caught him and that he’ll never get to see Cas or Sammy again. And it’s with the image of Cas’ face in front of his eyes that he finally fades to black.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick heads up that there won't be an update next week because of the holidays. Everything will be back on schedule after that though. Happy holidays to everyone ;)

He must have had a relapse, because he goes through another assortment of weird dreams or maybe he’s just hallucinating again. It doesn’t really matter. There is no Cas anymore in his dreams, just wide fields and empty rooms, and the feeling of being chased, hunted almost, and all he can think of is running. Running through an open field that doesn’t give him any cover, running through empty room after empty room, but no matter how fast he runs, he never gets away. And when he wakes it’s with a lingering sense of dread and a feeling he can’t quite shake, that he’s still sleeping, and that he’s only moved on to another nightmare.

So when he wakes up for real he’s disoriented at first, because it feels so different from his dreams, real, more tangible and way more painful. For a brief, terrifying moment, Dean thinks he is back in Alastair’s room, the ceiling equally white and unassuming; the bed eerily familiar underneath him. But then he realizes the differences, the room isn’t empty, there are machines there, a constant beep reminding him of his heart rate, he’s not cuffed this time, but most importantly, he knows and _trusts_ the person slumped in the chair next to his bed.

And that right there, almost makes him weep with joy, weren’t it for the sliver of doubt that reminds him that this could still be a dream.

“Sam.” His voice comes out barely above a croak, and there just seems so much stuff stuck in his throat, making it both hard to breathe and speak. But he just can’t believe that it’s Sam, that he wakes up to his life not being in imminent danger.

Sam jerks awake, and Dean only then realizes that he must have been asleep, but he doesn’t have the time to feel guilty, because Sam is on him, hugging him way too tight for comfort. Dean lets him though, because he can feel his brother shaking with all the worry he must have gone through after his disappearance. He wraps his arms around Sam, a task that is harder than it should be, because his arms feel way heavier than they have every right to be.

They let go eventually and when Sam pulls back Dean can see the dried streaks of tears - both old and new - on his face and there’s something clenching in his chest, guilt drenched with shame, because he let them get the jump on him, something his father taught him well enough to avoid, and in turn made Sam worry.

A nurse comes in, as if she’s guided by some supernatural knowledge of when people have woken up, and after she’s summoned a doctor Dean gets to be their ragdoll for the amount of time it takes to determine that his condition is ‘stable, but don’t overdo it’. And with that they’re gone again, almost as quick as they appeared.

“How do you feel?” Sam asks after they’ve left, mirroring the question the doctor asked, but unlike him he actually expects an honest answer. His face is scrunched up in a worried frown, and Dean can clearly see the many sleepless nights he must have spent because of Dean.

“Like shit.” Dean answers after a short assessment. He’s patched up mostly, but he feels sore all over and stiff, like he’s forgotten the use of most of his joints. There’s a stale taste in his mouth, like fur grown on his tongue and he feels like he’s growing a patch of thistle in his throat. But compared to what he’s woken up to the first two times, it’s almost heaven.

“How did I get here?”

“You tell me.” Sam frowns again, but that doesn’t quite hide the worry lines. “A couple on their midnight stroll found you unconscious on the side of the road. They called 911 and the hospital called us.” 

Dean looks away, there’s a question in Sam’s eyes and he’s not yet ready to answer it.

“Where’s Cas?” Now that the most pressing question is out of the way, it’s time to get to the _really_ most pressing question.

“At home resting. He’s been waiting at your bed for days now and he desperately needed some rest.” Sam sounds almost apologetic, but Dean is just relieved that Cas is fine. And even though he’s disappointed that he’s not here, he also can’t deny the flurry of emotions in his belly at the thought that Cas has been waiting at his bedside.

“He refused at first, said he didn’t want to leave you, but he could barely function as it was.” Sam frowns, looks down, looks up again and sighs. “He told us about Alastair.”

Dean freezes. His thoughts stumble to a violent and sudden halt, and all he can think is ‘fuck, Sam knows’. It wasn’t supposed to come out like this, he wanted to tell Sammy personally, and he certainly didn’t want to have this conversation while lying sick in a hospital bed.

“Sam-“

“Dean.” Sam interrupts and he finally looks up. “You didn’t come home from your shift, and when we called Ellen she said that your car was gone from the lot. Do you want to know what my first thought was? I thought you had left again, like you did when I went to college. Because I know you, and I know that what you have with Cas scares you.”

“Did you really think that?” He tries to summon anger, but he’s too exhausted, and Sam has too much of a point.

He’s never given Sam any reason to believe that he won’t up and leave like that again. He won’t, fuck, he never thought of leaving, even though Sam is right, his feelings for Cas scare him at times, but he never told Sam that. He just thought he let Sam figure that on his own, like he had figured out why Dean had left in the first place. The thought leaves him winded enough to temporarily forget worrying about his Baby.

“What was I supposed to believe? We checked the news, but there weren’t any accidents and you were nowhere to be found. And Cas was out of his mind. Hell, we all were. There hadn’t been any traces of a fight, you were just gone and we had nothing.”

Sam sounds angry, and Dean recognizes the signs of defensiveness, even when his mind is still fucked up from his sickness. He feels tempted to rise to the bait, to snap back at Sam, but before he can even gather up enough anger to add the bite, Sam’s shoulders have already fallen in shame.

“I’m sorry. I was just so worried and Cas was blaming himself, said he should have taken better care of you and shit. I should know you better than that. But I never really understood why you left the first time, and I couldn’t help but think that maybe whatever you were running from was still there. And then the police found your car abandoned on an old scrapyard and I no longer knew what to think.”

Dean has to close his eyes for a moment, just to take a deep breath and not lose it right then and there. He can’t deal with this, it’s too painful.

“I fucked up Sammy.” He says finally, voice thick with tears he refuses to cry. Because he doesn’t get to cry, not when he’s the one who put his family through so much shit.

“No you didn’t.” Sam says firmly, with conviction Dean can’t even begin to feel. “Cas told us what you went through. After we realized that you’d not just left.” Sam is chocking up now, voice barely comprehendible through all the tears.

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea. But I understand why you did what you did. I don’t blame you.”

As if that would change anything.

“No Sam you don’t understand. I fucked up.” Dean’s voice sounds hollow, even to his own ears. “I knew that Alastair had me on the radar again and I did squat about that. I allowed him to take me, just like that. And I killed people Sam. Not in self defense, but because I could. So don’t you dare telling me you understand.”

He has to look away after that, he can’t stand to see the disappointment in Sam’s eyes. Because he knows Cas, and he would make sure that Dean is painted in the best possible way in his story, and Sam would soak it up like the faithful little brother he is.

There’s silence after that, a heavy, suffocating silence and Dean just wants to be alone so that he can pretend this never happened. But Sam doesn’t leave and Dean doesn’t ask him to.

“So maybe I don’t understand.” Sam starts after a while, and Dean feels a new wave of shame and guilt when he hears how small he sounds. Like he’s trying so desperately to reach out to Dean, but no longer knows how and everything Dean does is shooting him down. “But I still don’t blame you. Neither doe Cas.” There’s something else in those words. An apology of sorts and even deeper the hope that they’ll be okay again, that Sam is willing to accept everything as long as it gets him his brother back.

They only had each other for so long, that Dean doesn’t have to think twice to accept it.

He looks back at Sam and tries a smile. It’s tentative at best, and his face hurts in places it has no right to, but Sam’s face lights up and for now that’s enough. There’ll be another talk, because it’s Sam and he needs to talk about these things, but he can live with that. He’s just glad that he’s back and in one piece. Besides, there are other things he has to worry about.

“What happened?”

Sam explains in quick words how Jody initiated a county wide search for him and they found the car abandoned a day earlier. Ellen had gone out then and dug out an old homeless person who had witnessed the whole abduction. And then by some lucky chance a couple took a late night walk and stumbled over his collapsed form.

“Jody knows about Alastair?” Dean checks afterwards, already knowing the answer, but he has to ask anyway. Sam just nods, a flitter of guilt, because Jody is new to the family, but Dean is too beat to care much. Besides, he wants to tell Jody anyway, he’s just preferred a chance to do it himself.

“Good. Tell her that I want to make a full confession about Alastair’s deeds. As soon as possible.” Sam is stunned for a moment, but his mind is already going through the implications of Dean’s words, he can see it in the lines of his frown as he runs it through.

He’s not surprised at the outcome.

“Dean that could get you into prison.” And he wishes he could say that doesn’t bother him, he wishes he were the kind of righteous that would gladly sacrifice his own happiness for others, and a few months earlier he might have done it without a second thought even. But now he can’t help but feel regret at the thought that he might never see Cas again, or that he might have to leave Sam, again. When he thinks of that, he doesn’t want to confess. He wants to take the secret and hide it as far away as possible, make those who already know forget so that he can pretend that it never happened.

He can’t do that though. Because even though Alastair hasn’t done anything yet, he sure as hell will and then not only Dean but his whole family are in danger. And he can’t allow that. Not after he already had his filthy claws on Cas.

“I know.” He can’t pretend he isn’t scared though. Alastair won’t go down easily, and there’s not a shred of doubt in his mind that he’ll send someone after Dean and that he might have to go into witness protection. But if anyone can do it, it’s him, and he has waited way too long for this.

“I have to do this Sam. I should have done that a long time ago. None of this,” He makes a hand gesture that indicates his battered state, “would have happened if I’d just man up. It needs to be done.”

And there is nothing Sam can say to that, because Dean is right and so he bows his head, sighing heavily and whispering under his breath: “The others won’t like this.” But what he really means is; Cas won’t like this.

And Dean will have to live with that.

* * *

 

Dean hates hospitals. The food sucks, there’s noise 24/7, the TV programs are always shit and the nurses (however hot they may be) won’t get off his ass. And he hates lying around uselessly in general, but so far he’s not allowed to go for more than a bathroom break. And even then he has to drag that damn I.V. with him and take care not to get the line caught in something - again. And ripping that needle out by accident fucking hurt. (As did inserting it back in.)

And above all, he’s going out of his mind with boredom. Sam left shortly after Dean woke up to a) get some decent rest and b) talk to Jody, and he can probably expect her tomorrow at the earliest, because she’s pretty busy at the moment. And as much as Dean would prefer to be done with it now rather than later, he can’t help but feel grateful for the reprieve.

That still leaves him with boredom though. Sam didn’t think of bringing books or anything and there’s just some dumb rerun of Family Ties and he’s not desperate enough (yet) to watch through that - again. He’s suffered through lunch already and he definitely doesn’t look forward to dinner. Not even the stupid pudding can make up for that. And he has only been awake for what, four hours now?

According to Sam he had been sleeping for days (they had to feed him through infusions), and that’s certainly enough time to lie around and do nothing. But after Sam threatened to guilt trip him into next week if he doesn’t listen to what the doctor’s say, he’s not left with much of a choice.

He’s on the verge of deciding to just screw it all and walk out of there, maybe get some of that shitty hospital coffee, when his savior in the form of Cas appears in the door. He looks ruffled, more so than usual, but as soon as he sees Dean he rushes over and hugs him.

Cas is shaking minutely and he clings to Dean as if his life depends on it. Dean lets him, needing the contact as much as Cas. He hadn’t realized how worried he was about Cas, until this moment.

“Dean.” Cas breathes, unwilling to let go but Dean gently pries his grip off to push him at arm’s length. He wants to look at him properly, but as soon as he sees the worry in his face he pulls him back in for a kiss. Cas melts instantly against him, a soft sigh falling from his lips that Dean catches with his own.

They don’t stop until both of them have reassured themselves of the other’s wellbeing and even then they pull apart only inches to rest their foreheads together. “I’m sorry I worried you.” Dean finally says, hand curled into the soft hairs on the back of Cas’ neck.

“I’m just glad you’re alright.” Cas’ smile is brilliant and for a moment it erases all the small signs of the woes of the past few days on his face. It makes Dean’s heart clench with shame when he thinks that he’s responsible for all the pain. The shadows under his eyes, the lines in his face that speak from hours of worrying, even more so because it’s _Cas_. He shouldn’t even be able to look like that.

“I’m so sorry.” Dean presses his eyes closed to hold back the tears that threaten to fall. He can’t cry, not now when he finally has Cas back.

“Don’t be.” Cas whispers and then he’s kissing him again, deep and slow, like he needs to learn the feel of Dean anew. “I’m so happy to have you back Dean. Please, don’t be sorry.”

“Okay.” He chokes the word out more than he says them, but then Cas is kissing his cheeks and he realizes that he’s crying for real now. “Cas, I-“ the words are stuck in his throat and Dean feels like he’s choking for real this time. He hadn’t even meant to say that, to start saying that. It was just there all of a sudden and he had opened his frigging mouth without thinking, but then he thinks about what he’s about to do, and his mouth falls shut again.

He grasps at Cas’ arm, into the fabric of the same old trench coat that is so inherently Cas it’s comforting. He’s such a fucking coward, even after what he’d been through, even after facing the possibility that he might lose Cas, he can’t say it, because the whole thought is still so _new._ It’s too early for that, it must be, maybe Cas isn’t ready for this form of commitment yet, because Dean sure isn’t. They don’t know each other for that long after all.

(And he tells himself that that’s it, that he’s only holding back because he’s considerate of Cas’ feelings, that he doesn’t want to overwhelm him, while in truth, he’s just scared.)

Cas seems to sense that he’s distressed and he gently guides Dean to lie back down. He smiles as he pulls something out of his coat pocket. There’s a faint blush on his cheeks and if Dean didn’t know it better he would say Cas was bashful. “I brought you something.” Okay, now he’s sure of it, Cas _is_ bashful.

It’s endearing and so terribly adorable that Dean is sure he could vomit rainbows, but intentional or not, it has the effect of flushing all the panic out of Dean’s system. It’s a small plastic zip bag, filled with a honey-colored paste. He takes it carefully from Cas’ hand, not quite sure what to make of it.

“I harvested the honey myself.” He says proudly.

Ah. The honey-colored something is actually honey. Who would have thought.

Dean stares at the bag. The amount of honey in it is actually quite impressive. He has no real idea on how much honey bees produce regularly, but this really seems like a lot.

“Thanks Cas.” He says with real warmth in his voice. He’s not particular one for honey, but even he recognizes the worth of such a gift. “It’s awesome.” He pulls open the zipper and gives the contents a careful sniff and damn that stuff smells good.

Cas in the meantime is rivaling the Cheshire cat. “I wasn’t sure if you would like it, but there are many usages for honey and I thought I’d give it a try.” It’s obvious how proud he is of himself, and Dean is filled with that brilliant warmth again, that he’s come to associate with Cas.

And that gets him thinking once again.

He’s not in lethal danger anymore, and with Jody’s help he’ll be able to make sure that it stays that way. He doesn’t have to hurry. And then he thinks about what Sam said and the very real possibility that he’s right. It wouldn’t be fair to Cas to confess to him only to be carted off to prison immediately after.

The thought hurts, almost more than he can bear, but there’s a very slim chance that he might get off the hook easily. If he can bring down Alastair’s regime he might get a reduced sentence, or maybe he’ll even be pardoned. And he resolves in that moment to keep off telling Cas until then, until he’s free, either by ruling or by serving his sentence. And if Cas doesn’t want him after either of that, well, he’s going to cross that bridge when he gets to it.

It’s not the ideal solution, but it eases off the weight on his heart. Cas deserves something better than Dean could give him right now, but once this all is over, he’ll make it up to Cas.

Until then…

There’s a mischievous glint in Cas’ eyes as he leans in to whisper into Dean’s ear. “Joshua gave me a recipe for a honey based massage oil.” And if that doesn’t sound suggestive as hell Dean doesn’t know what does.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” Cas is growling now, and whatever it is that he does to Dean’s ears with his lips right now, it’s awesome.

“Wanna try it out?” Dean winds his hand around Cas’ neck, coaxing him forward and into a kiss. Slow again, just to feel Cas and imagine the taste of honey on his lips.

“Yes.” Cas breathes again and sags against Dean, as if all the strength has been drained from him with just that kiss. And Dean finds his hands irresistibly drawn to that bag of honey in his lap. He dips in a finger; the texture is different from the smoothness he usually associates with honey, clear and sticky as hell. It just has a hint of graininess, it feels a bit like the scrub bath Sam insists on using and he can’t pull it isn’t as viscous as honey is.

But the smell is still enticing and he can’t resist.

He drags his finger over Cas’ lips, feels the small tremble under the tip and the ghost of a breath as Cas exhales. Cas’ goes almost cross eyed in his attempt to look down on his lips and Dean foregoes his initial plan of kissing it off and instead pushes his finger In between the plumpness of Cas’ lips.

Cas shudders minutely and then he’s sucking on Dean’s finger, tongue lapping at every last drop of honey and Dean never thought that something like finger sucking could be this arousing. Dean drags his thumb over Cas’ lips again, smearing the honey further.

“Dean.” Cas mumbles around his finger and Dean smiles softly. He pulls back his finger, but leaves his hand cradled against the side of Cas’ jar as he pulls him in, to finally kiss the honey from Cas’ lips. The taste is overwhelming; it’s sweet yet with a certain tartness underneath, like the filling of a perfect apple pie.

Dean has his hand halfway up under Cas’ shirt when a nurse alerts them to her presence by clearing her throat. Cas immediately pulls back, looking both flustered and incredibly turned on at the same time. Dean just winks at the nurse as he leans back in the pillows. It sucks that they got interrupted, but they’re in a hospital and Dean apparently needs hourly checkups so he isn’t exactly surprised.

The nurse finishes her routine (thank goodness, no fever thermometer this time, there is really only one person he’s comfortable with bearing his ass to), and declares then with the gravity of yearlong practice that visiting hours are over in ten minutes. Since Dean’s awake now, and visitors could possibly disturb his healing process - complete with a poignant look at Cas and the traces of honey that are still haphazardly smeared on his face - she insists on that they adhere to the rules just like everyone else.

It seems like a speech she has hold a lot of time before and Dean doesn’t doubt that she’s ready to kick Cas out personally if she has to. They reassure her that it won’t come to that and she leaves them alone again. Dean zips up the honey bag with one last remorseful glance before he drops it on his nightstand.

He actually wanted to tell Cas under better circumstances but he can’t count on him coming tomorrow before Jody shows up. He has work to do after all. And if he’s completely honest, there are no good circumstances under which he could say what he has to say next.

“You know Alastair grabbed me, right?” Dean tries, hands twisted into the blanket.

“I gathered as much, after Jody told us what the homeless man said.” Cas apparently senses that Dean has something important to say, because he sits back in his chair, eyes awake and trained on Dean.

Dean is hit by the sudden and equally crazy thought that the blue fairy must be real. There’s no other way how Cas could be so human, so _alive_ , in moments like this. The thought is equally painful and exalting. Just thinking of hat it would mean to have Cas as a human takes his breath away. Even with all the traces of exhaustion lining his face.

But he can’t think about that right now. (Or possibly ever.)

“He’s going to come after me again, Cas. And not just after me. He’ll come after you too. (He bites back the ‘again’ on the last second, there’s no need to open that can of worms now. “And I can’t allow that.”

Cas is smart. There’s not a hint of a doubt in Dean’s mind about that. Maybe a bit clueless at times, and most of Dean’s references go over his head, but he’s highly intelligent, able to put bits and pieces together. As he’s doing now. And he gets there, just as Dean expected him to.

“Then we should leave.” He suggests quietly, but they both now that’s not going to cut it. They could ask Ash, or maybe even Charlie, to erase their traces again, build them a new identity, but then what? Going into some form of self-imposed witness protection? Living off the radar for the rest of their lives, while there is another option out there, one that could guarantee his family’s safety? And he can’t be selfish, not when this is all his fault to begin with.

And Cas knows that.

“I’m going to ‘fess up. Alastair needs to be stopped, and I’m the only one who can do it. I might be… I don’t know. This could end me up in prison, heck, this will most likely end me up in prison, and believe me when I say, that fucking scares me.” He doesn’t say that it’s because it would separate him from Cas.

“But I need to do this. I just… I killed so many; I still have nightmares about it. And I know he’s doing it to others, forcing them to torture for him, and I can’t just keep living when I could put a stop to that.”

Cas doesn’t say anything, he just looks and the sheer amount of understanding in his face is enough to break Dean’s heart.

“Maybe,” He says, because he has to, “Maybe I’ll get pardoned. If my contribution is big enough they might acquit me. But even that can take a long time. And it will drag up so much dirt. Cas, I can’t ask you to stay with me, I can’t, but I want to. I just, I don’t think I could do this without you.” He has to force out the words, and it’s one of the hardest things he’s ever done. Asking for help, selfishly like this, goes against everything he believes in, everything he’s made out of.

He feels so heavy all of a sudden, pressed down by an invisible weight.

And Cas just takes his hand, squeezes their fingers together and smiles. “I won’t leave you.” Cas says, but his words are lost in the rush of blood in Dean’s ears. Maybe it’s the stress of all the emotions, maybe he’s just weaker than he thought, but he can feel himself drifting off into unconsciousness. And if the last words he’s hearing is “ever” he might just be imagining things.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how court procedurals and the likes work in America (I have tried research but its all very confusing and changes from state to state and god knows what else) That is not to say I know any better how it works here in Germany. Anyway this story is supposed to play somewhat in the future so I took some artistic license.
> 
> Or maybe a lot.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the show.

It’s one thing to confess his crimes to Cas and desperately hope that he’ll find it in his heart to forgive him. It’s another thing to confess to some unnamed police officer who listens with practiced impassiveness.

And then there is confessing his entire criminal career to Jody.

They’re alone in his hospital room, Jody sitting on the only chair, listening intently as he spills his heart. She’s told him right away that this can’t be his official statement, but he tells her anyway, because she’s family, and she has a right to get the whole story from him. (And he doesn’t think about Sam and how pissed he will be that he’s the last one to know.)

It’s obvious in her stance that she’s compassionate, but when she tells him about the consequences he’s most likely to face, she’s all business. She doesn’t give him any illusions as to what he might expect, tells him clearly that he’s likely to serve at least a few years, that Alastair has a real chance of slipping the noose, because Dean is just one person and Alastair has lifelong experience with dodging the law.

All in all Dean doesn’t really feel good after the conversation. But Jody also told him that she is fully behind him, and he knows that he’ll be able to count on the rest of his family as well. And that’s what makes him stick to his decision when Jody asks him one last time if he’s sure. And then they’re through with that too, and there is nothing left to say.

Dean feels a strange mixture of accomplishment and dread when Jody finally leaves. Because this is it, she’s going to prepare everything for him to make his real statement, meaning she’ll get a DA involved and he’ll have to go to a deposition, and there were a few other things she mentioned, but Dean’s head already hurts and he can’t remember if he actually needs an attorney or if he just sticks to the prosecutor.

Wait, what was the difference between a prosecutor and a DA again?

It must be the meds kicking in, because the next thing Dean remembers is Cas sitting slumped over on the chair and snoring softly into his arms. There’s a sudden ache in his heart at the sight. Cas is so implicitly human like this. And Dean wishes with a fierce intensity that all this shit just goes away. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to lose Cas. At the same time he knows he couldn’t stand the thought of forcing Cas to wait for him for years only to get a broken prison-hardened man in the end. He can’t ask that of him. He has to give him his freedom.

Even if it will break him.

Dean gently rests his hand on Cas’ hair, carding his fingers through the dark strands, wondering - not for the first time - if he’s doing the right thing. But he can’t not do anything; that would put his family at risk. Jody has promised to keep an eye out for trouble, and Dean is close to allowing her to station a few of her men around the house, but he knows that both Sam and Bobby would have to say something about that. She’s insisted on putting a man outside of his door in the hospital, and Dean hadn’t so much as fought her on that.

He’s vulnerable here, and he knows that.

Cas hums in his sleep and pushes his head subconsciously into Dean’s touch. Dean smiles faintly to himself, a bittersweet feeling resting in his heart. He’s doing this to protect Cas, to protect the man he loves. Even if that takes him away from him forever.

Part of him is glad at that moment that Cas isn’t human. That means he can take the pain away whenever he wants.

* * *

 

Sam comes over the next day, just after the doctor told him that he will be discharged tomorrow. His brother carries a frown, and he keeps looking back to the door and the man that guards it. And Dean realizes that Jody probably didn’t tell, because this is something Dean has to do himself.

They lock eyes for a moment and Sam sits down with the air of someone who braces himself for a bomb about to drop. And maybe he’s right with that. It comes to Dean with a sudden clarity that he’s not only leaving Cas, but also Sam. His brother, who he has spent years with, even after growing up. His brother, whom he only was apart with when he went to become a criminal. The very same thing that might put them apart again.

It hurts even worse than the thought of losing Cas. Because somewhere deep in his heart he still expects that Cas sooner or later will leave him, because he’s Dean and it’s what people do. They leave. But Sam is a constant, Sam even though he might leave is and always will be family.

(And there’s the disappointment too.)

Telling Jody was one thing, Sam is yet another.

Sam’s face has always been an open book, at least for Dean, but right now he’s not sure if that’s a good thing. There’s shock there, that’s the dominating emotion, but there are other things too. Things that hurt way more than Dean likes to admit. It’s obvious that Sam is disappointed, not so much in Dean’s criminal endeavor, but in the fact that he kept it secret for so long. But this is Sam, and Sam is understanding if anything. And he does understand why Dean would keep it from him. What he doesn’t understand is why Dean has waited so long to confess things.

And why he’s doing it now, when he finally has someone else in his life.

But Sam is smart and he doesn’t need long to understand, that Dean is doing it _because_ he finally has someone else in his life.

“I hope you’re aware what this could mean.” Sam runs a tired hand through his hair, completing the mess that his mane usually is.

Dean snorts. “Are you kidding? I spent the last two days thinking about nothing else. Going to prison is the least of my worries. Depending on how deeply rooted the whole thing is I might be carded of into witness protection.”

And that means he’ll _never_ be able to see his family again.

“But there’s a chance you’ll be acquitted, right?”

“Yes, if my contribution to the case is great enough. But so far we’re not even sure if we actually have a case. Alastair has done a pretty good job in covering his tracks. And my word alone won’t be enough.” Dean sighs and sinks back into his pillow. This could all blow up into his face. “His turf isn’t in Jody’s precinct, but she’s going to check the files of the other precincts for anything that might help. There have to be at least some recorded incidents.”

“So if you’re unlucky you just end up confessing your own crimes?”

“Basically.”

Sam doesn’t say anything after that, but judging by the look on his face, he’s thinking hard. And Dean is struck by the thought that this might be it. He’ll be discharged tomorrow, and from there on it’s directly to the police and up into confession.

And that means that he might end up in pretrial detention rather soon. Sam must have had a similar thought, because he has that face he always gets when he’s about to over share. And Dean doesn’t want to, because emotions are a mine field, especially right now, but Sam is his brother and this could be their last conversation for a long time.

 “What does Cas say about that?”

Or maybe he isn’t ready for that at all.

“He doesn’t like it, but he’ll back up my decision.”

“And you’re okay with that? Leaving Cas behind?”

“What do you think smartass?”

“Dean look. All I’m saying is that there’s got to be another way. You can’t tell me you like the idea of going to prison.”

“Of course I don’t like it. But it’s what I have to do. Do you think Alastair will let me live in peace after that? Do you think I could just outrun him? Is that what you want, that I just run away with Cas and never look back? He would come after you then, after _Jess_.”

Sam’s expression is a contorted mixture of bitch face and frozen horror at the thought of something happening to Jess, and it takes him a whole of five seconds to pull it into one smooth bitch face, the annoyance obviously stronger than the terror.

“Look, all I’m saying is that you’re my brother, and I lost you once to Alastair and it took Dad dying to bring us back together. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You didn’t lose me, you _left_.” Dean snaps back. It’s petty and not the thing that he wanted to say, but the hurt about that never quite left and having his failure thrown right back into his face isn’t working well with his temper right now.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t instantly regret his words though.

Dean wants to take back the words, because the look on Sam’s face is just so wounded hurt and no brother should make his little brother look like that. But he can’t take the words back; the apology stuck somewhere between his brain and his tongue.

But then Sam’s face seems to crumble and he actually looks away. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” And this is not how it’s supposed to go. Sam is supposed to rebuke him and then they fight a bit, but in the end they just call each other bitch and jerk and they’re okay again. (But even Dean knows that this isn’t something they can just brush off.)

Dean is stunned. There’s a part of him that wants to tell Sam off with one of his usual lines, something about the girly nature of emotions, but the words continue to refuse him. He can’t do that, not now when this might be the last opportunity they have to talk.

“Sammy-“

“Dean.” Their eyes meet. Sam’s are sad and serious, while Dean isn’t exactly sure how he looks. After a short moment, that seems to expand into infinity, Dean looks away.

“I’ve always known why you ran away and I always knew you have been in some shit, but I never pried, because it wasn’t my place to. And I know I should have apologized to you and Dad for leaving like that, but I was too angry with Dad for what he said to me. And I carried that with me for a long time, thinking that at least you and me were okay because you kept sending me money, but there was no way of reaching you. And then Dad died and I didn’t even get to clear up our argument.”

Sam swallows, fighting with the tears that are welling up, but he keeps going, pressing out every word he must have bottled up for years. “And when you came back I instantly knew that you were different, but I also had you back after years, and Dad just died so I just accepted it. And then everything seemed to go fine, but I knew it was just façade, but how could I have addressed it when I was the one who drove you away?

“It’s all my fault. I killed Dad.”

The statement hangs in the air for the few seconds it takes Dean to process it.

“It wasn’t your fault. It never was. I blamed myself for a lot of shit Dad did, but that was all on him. Not on me, not on you.”

“How can you say that? You left because I did and because of that Dad had no one to keep him from drinking.”

“And it was his own damn fault.” Dean snaps, slamming his hand down on the bed side. “Listen Sammy, this is not on us. It has never been on us. Don’t think you are responsible for Dad’s mistakes.” It felt good in a way to say the words. Dean had spent so much time of his life picking up behind John, taking the blame for things that weren’t his fault that it has something of a liberation. He doesn’t just comfort Sam, he needs to hear those words just as badly as his brother does.

The look on Sam’s face is crushing. There’s so much hurt there, but there’s also hope and he looks at Dean like he’s a lifeline but he’s too afraid to take it. Dean is taken by the urge to pull him into a hug, like he used to when they were kids, to hold him until all the bad stuff goes away.

But they’re grownups now; there is no longer the illusion of safety in each other’s arms. There’s just reality. And nothing bites as hard as that.

“I’m taking responsibility for what I did. Something I should have done a long time ago. I might have run away because you left, but that doesn’t make it your fault. You did what you had to do; I was just too stubborn to accept it. And Dad would have ended up dead one way or another. He had a death wish ever since Mom died.”

Sam still looks stricken, but the set of his jaw line is firmer now and he has that glint of defiance in his eyes that Dean knows way too well.

“Okay.” Sam swallows and wipes away whatever traces of tears there are left on his face. “But I won’t let you go to jail.”

“Sam-“

“No Dean, listen. I’m not saying you shouldn’t confess, because you should. From what I heard Alastair needs to be put down, but I want to make sure that he actually gets his just desserts.”

He knows that look. It’s the same look Sam had when he broke that fight with Dad that ended with him leaving for college. It’s the same look he always gets when he’s _that_ kind of serious. And Dean knows better than to fight it.

“You’re not a lawyer Sammy, how are you going to do it?”

“I work at a university Dean. I know way too many law students who would die for a chance like this.”

“You think a law student is going to cut it?”

“No, of course not. But they can help to get you in this right. There’s a chance you’ll end up as the prosecuted, but if we sell you right you’ll be key witness and that’s better than any get out of prison card.”

“I know. Jody told me as much.”

“I can get them to dig up precedence cases or just work on legal jargon. I don’t know; there’s got to be something I can do.”

“It’s a start.” Dean allows, and even if it isn’t much - it’s barely anything - Sam’s face seems to light up just a bit.

“You probably should get Ash out there, he might be able to dig up something on Alastair, you know, some hard evidence.”

Dean sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He had thought of that too, but, “What then? We can’t really use evidence procured by hacking, can we?”

“Guess not.”

“But still I’ll ask him. Maybe Charlie too. The more the merrier right?”

Sam’s answer is a half assed bitch face.

Not bad for a start.

* * *

 

He was right about one thing. Once he got out of the hospital things got hectic. And Dean also realizes that he won’t be able to do any of it without the help of his family. As it turns out, there had been indeed quite a collection of cases that had Alastair involved, but the police had been unable to pin him down so far.

That was until Dean showed up apparently.

But Dean is still nervous, and the threat of jail hangs above him like a thundercloud, resulting in a lot of strain in both his relationships with Cas and his family.

He tries to make it up to Cas during the nights, lets him take back the control he has to relinquish during the day. Lets him map out every little inch of his body, so he won’t forget it, no matter what. Dean feels like he needs to assure both him and Cas that he’s there, that he’s going nowhere and that if he should end up with a sentence, he will fight it with everything he’s got. (He’s thinking of running away, as stupid and unlikely successful that will be.)

They fall asleep wrapped around one another, desperately clinging to what they know they can’t lose. But morning always comes, and Dean has to face yet another day full of uncertainties and the endless waiting he seems to be only doing these days.

Things take a decided turn when Dean gets a call from the prosecutor, and suddenly his whole perspective changes. Until then he had been subject to constant doubt and a nagging worry that this will cost him his freedom, but one phone call, just one short phone call, a few hasty words really, and a huge weight is lifted from his chest.

The trial has just gone federal.

Alastair has a far wider reach than Dean had thought, having businesses in almost half of the states and even though the local authorities are aware of his presence, no one had the evidence to pin him down. (And those who have, have most likely been bribed into next week.) And that upgrades Dean from key witness to ultra important key witness.

And once the legal train starts rolling there is no stopping it. The next weeks pass in a blur, there’s statements to be made, then the first meeting with Alastair’s attorney at the deposition and then a few tension filled weeks under constant police surveillance until the trial. Dean barely has a moment of piece to himself, even less so than before, and he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to handle it without Cas at his side.

Cas who supports him through everything, Cas who sticks to him through every bit of trouble, Cas who takes hours to engrave his memory into Dean’s body. He’s no longer worried about jail, once the state got involved, it became pretty clear that Dean will be acquitted for his contribution. The date of the trial has been pushed forward on an earlier date and if everything goes well he won’t have to go into witness protection.

Until then he has to stay put though.

And as imperative as it is; it still sucks. He can’t leave the house without an escort of police officers. The house itself is under constant surveillance, the only reason he’s allowed to keep working at the garage at all is because it’s on Bobby’s grounds and close. Sam and Jess have to live with escorts too and Jody is so stressed and exhausted she falls asleep in the middle of a conversation.

The prosecutor told him he’s as good as in the clear, but that doesn’t change that he’ll have to confess all his crimes in front of an audience. It helps that Cas, Sam and now Bobby too know what he’s done, and Jess and the Roadhouse gang have a rough idea after being told to be extra careful (resulting in Ellen distributing shotguns to both Ash and Jo. Dean is worried, but not as much as he could be. If anyone knows to look after themselves, it’s Ellen and Jo). But still, there will be an audience, the media most likely, and there’s not much of a guess as to what direction Alastair’s defense will take.

Make Dean look like the bad guy and his credibility will go downhill. It will be a fight for the jury’s favor, and as smarmy Alastair usually is, he can be just as charming. And it’s not that Dean can claim he’s been forced to do anything. There’s no denying that he liked it, and Alastair knows that.

He tries to distract himself as much as possible, working in the garage. Fixing cars has always been able to relax his mind, but now that the fear of jail is gone he has time to think about all the other shit that might go wrong. They’re far from safe, especially since Alastair has so much more to lose than Dean originally anticipated.

He has been quiet so far, no sign of a move, but that sets Dean even more on edge. He knows Alastair and he knows his MO. There’s no way he’ll let this go without a fight, but the days pass and nothing happens. Maybe all the guards work as a deterrent or maybe Alastair’s just biding his time for the right moment.

Fact is, Dean is slowly going crazy, he’s not allowed to go out when not absolutely necessary, and that means staying cooped at home almost 24/7. He even had to quit his job at the Roadhouse. Cas is driven to work from one of the officers and only after a long discussion about safety procedures and the promise to do everything he’s told. And it’s thanks to Joshua’s endless patience that he’s even has work to go back to with all the added safety precautions he has to go through.

And he makes an effort to alleviate Dean’s boredom as best as he can. Bringing him more honey they use up in rather questionable activities, but Dean can’t help it; he’s addicted to the sweetened taste of Cas’ skin. Addicted to the sounds he makes when Dean licks him clean, the way his hands grip tight in Dean’s hair when he laps at every little spot of honeyed skin.

But even the sweet exhaustion that sex brings, can’t rid him of the nightmares that plague him in some nights. He hadn’t had one in a long time. But now he’s back to screams and fires, and the never ending terror. And every time he jerks awake; Cas is waiting for him, arms warm and comforting until the trembling subsides and he falls back to sleep.

The last days before the trial pass, and the tension is high, but again, nothing happens. Alastair seems to have vanished from the face of the earth, and even though the police officers grow increasingly worried and paranoid - much to everyone’s chagrin - everything stays calm.

And then it’s the day of the trial.


	28. Chapter 28

Dean wakes up early, long before his alarm clock is set to ring. Cas is wrapped around him, a habit he has picked up somewhere along the way, but Dean can’t really say he minds. It’s not exactly easy to extract himself whenever he has to follow nature’s call, but when he comes back, there’s always a very grumpy and adorable Cas pulling him impatiently back into his arms.

And that has merits all on its own.

Castiel usually has to go to work later than Dean, but he always gets up with him. Which in turn leads to shower sex more often than not. But lately it hasn’t been as easy as it used to be. Dean has nightmares that leave him trembling and wide awake, and rather tense in the morning. Cas does his best to calm him, but Dean suspects that it won’t get better until the trial is over.

But strangely enough, he didn’t have nightmares this night. Cas is still asleep, snoring softly and Dean doesn’t wonder for the first time if he dreams. Dean can’t help but smile. There’s something about seeing Cas sleep that just gives him a feeling of peace.

Today even more so, because Dean can allow himself to feel save and unburdened for a few more hours in Cas arms, before he has to go out and face the trial and an entire room full of people who will judge him for his past. It doesn’t help that Dean secretly thinks they have every right to.

He pulls Cas in closer to his chest, buries his face in his hair and just breathes. Cas smells like one of Dean’s shampoos he likes to use when he showers. It makes something hot and possessive coil in Dean’s gut, a primal feeling of _mine_ , whenever he smells it. Cas grumbles something, wraps his legs more tightly around Dean, nipping at his skin for a moment as a reprimand to stay still before he falls back into his slumber - or whatever it is he does when he’s off like that. (Maybe it’s just Dean, but Cas seems to become more and more human with every passing day. Or maybe it just seems like that to Dean.)

Eventually Cas wakes up for real though. Still long before the alarm is due, but Cas always had an uncanny sense that seems to alert him to Dean’s wakeful state. Maybe it’s part of his program, or maybe he’s just super attentive. They don’t say much; it’s not necessary. They both know what’s at stake. And when Cas gently pushes him down on the sheets to kiss him Dean gives in to the overwhelming sense of peace that comes with his touch.

They take it slow this time, slower than usual and Cas brings Dean close to orgasm many times, only to pull back at the last second.  And by the time he finally, mercifully pushes into him, Dean is a mess, wrung out and close to begging, breath ragged and erratic, exactly the state Cas wants to have him in. When Cas enters him he almost can’t take it, but Cas isn’t finished with him, a firm hand prevents him from coming just yet.

He’s pressed into the sheets, face squished into a pillow, but he doesn’t really care, not when he can feel Cas moving inside of him. He’s slow and gentle, more rocking than thrusting and as much as Dean enjoys a hard ride, sometimes he just needs it like this. Cas hand digs into his shoulder and he does something with his hips, changes the angle a bit and the last of Dean’s worries are washed away from the wave of pleasure that rushes through him.

Cas doesn’t let up though. He keeps his rhythm unpredictable, moving smoothly from pushing deep to short shallow thrusts and Dean is teetering on the brink of that cliff, but unable to fall off. Cas doesn’t relinquish his hold on his cock, until Dean can’t take it anymore.

“Cas, please…” His voice is muffled by the pillow but it seems to be what Cas was waiting for. He thrusts his hips in way that has Dean gasping for air and for a moment he thinks Cas is denying him again, but then he releases his hold on him and Dean comes explosively, vision temporarily whiting out. He clings on to the sheets, tries to gather his breath but Cas is still moving, brushing over his now oversensitive prostate and if it were possible, Dean is sure he would have a second orgasm right then.

And when the litany of Dean that falls from Cas’ mouth has ended, Dean thinks for a moment that maybe, they will be alright after all.

And maybe he finally will get to tell Cas that he loves him.

* * *

 

Breakfast is a silent affair. Everyone is quiet and subdued, and when the pair of marshals that has been assigned with Dean’s safety shows up to escort him to the courthouse, it feels like barely enough time has passed. Dean hasn’t eaten much, most of it due to Sam’s insistence and a redundant use of puppy eyes. And yeah, he’s going to need his strength, but it’s hard to keep things down when his stomach is a churning mess of worry and anxiety.

“We’ll be in the ranks to support you.” Sam says, voice serious and that look on his face that usually provokes Dean to call him Samantha. But before he can even think of hiding behind what definitely would be faux bravado, Sam pulls him into a tight hug and okay, maybe that isn’t so bad either.

“You’ll be fine.” Jess says before she hugs him in another tight embrace, certainly rivaling Sam when it comes to nearly crushing bones. But he can feel the minute tremble in her frame, and it makes his heart lurch with regret. He never meant to put his family through so much suffering, and now all he can do is try and make it right.

Jody is already at the courthouse, keeping an eye on the perimeter, scouring the surrounding buildings for traps, snipers and the like, together with a whole contingent of officers and marshals. She’s not the only one who will be making three crosses once this all is over.

“I hope you know what you’re doing you idjit.” Bobby grumbles and claps a hand on his back, looking for a moment as if he’s about to hug him too. There’s an awkward moment then, but Bobby just pats his shoulder again and steps back. That leaves only Cas and two rather impatient marshals but Dean will be damned before he lets that stop him from kissing Cas (and he refuses to think the word goodbye).

And then it’s time, he gets ushered into the car and hadn’t he been so tense he would appreciate the feeling that comes with being covered by two personal bodyguards. Okay he probably wouldn’t appreciate it either way, because they keep getting close, using their bodies to shield him from whatever danger might befall him on the way to the car. And Dean really only likes to get into body contact with a select few people - at selected few times.

At least inside the car he gets a bit of peace, but with his mind and heart racing, he can’t quite enjoy that. They’re there way too soon, and as predicted, the front is packed with media. Alastair is a wanted man in quite a few states but since Dean’s statement was recorded in Jody’s precinct, the trial will be held at Sioux Falls courthouse. He doesn’t really understand the legal procedures behind it (something about legislative decentralization the current government is so fond of), but he’s not going to complain, not when it allows him to stay home for the time. It proves both to be an advantage and a disadvantage when it comes to security precautions.

Despite it’s impact and reach, the trial isn’t expected to go longer than this day. The main part that is. Ash and Charlie have uncovered quite a bit of evidence, and while they couldn’t exactly use all of it, it surely helped to build the case. And while Dean is mostly kept out of the loop - he’s supposed to stay free of any influence that could bias his statement - but he has a hunch that something way bigger is going on in the background.  Things are going too smoothly, he’s a key witness, but his contribution can’t be that big to warrant the progress.

The courthouse is small and nestled between an assembly of rather small houses, which makes it harder for snipers to find a good and elevated position, but there are a lot of alleys and backyards and the court-own security is lacking at best. And then it’s time already to get out of the car and face the amassed conglomerate of media and curious onlookers.

He should have known he supposes; should have known by the wary looks his two guards keep exchanging as they get out of the car, by the tension that permeates the air, like air loaded with electricity right before a storm. He should have known that something would go wrong. It always does. The other shoe always drops, it’s a universal law and he should have known it.

But he didn’t.

So when it happens, all he can do is watch. There’s nothing preceding it, no sound, no warning before one of the two marshals - god he doesn’t even know their names - jolts as if being hit. His eyes are wide, shocked and for a moment he just stands there, frozen in place and Dean watches with cold horror as a red spot blooms on his chest. Right above where his heart is. It shouldn’t take him so long to make the connection. He had expected something like this for the past weeks, had anticipated an attack around every corner, but for a moment there, upon seeing the courthouse, he had allowed himself to feel relief.

He had been wrong.

The man looks on, eyes wide with surprise, and the blood stain keeps growing, like a sick breed of rose in his buttonhole. He falls, slowly, as if he’s suspended in air and all Dean can think is ‘shit I didn’t even hear the shot’.

There are shouts around him, screams and he vaguely registers that the remaining marshal is shouting something at him, and then something slams into him and for a short horrible moment he things he’s been shot. But there is no pain, except for the bite of asphalt on his face and palms, and something heavy drops on top of him. “Stay down, for god’s sake; stay down.” The marshal shouts, keeping him down with the weight of his body, while simultaneously barking commands into his radio. They’re next to the car, covered half by the open door, but the protection is not exactly what he’d call safe.

“Sniper on three hundred, I repeat sniper on three hundred. Take him down, _now_.”

Dean tries to look up, tries to get a better look around, to see if there’s a chance for them to get inside the building, or inside the car if nothing else but as soon as he moves he’s pushed down again.

“Keep your god damn head down.” Dean complies since he doesn’t really have any other chance. Something warm and wet soaks through his clothes and he realizes with a sick lurch to his stomach that it’s the blood of the other marshal. He wants to throw up, but he can’t; he wants to get up and fight whoever is out for his ass, but he can’t and it’s so frustrating he wants to scream. People are dying around him, _because_ of him and he can’t do a thing about it. And shit, what if they sent someone after his family.

The marshal keeps shouting into his radio, a too loud sound next to his ear. At least the screaming has stopped and a wary and very careful glance reveals that the area in front of the courthouse is empty. Except for three bodies, one of them the marshal.

The firing sounds have stopped as well and it is eerily quiet, and then there are suddenly people around them, pulling his human shield up and away from him. Dean sits up finally, looking around to see a bunch of marshals gathered around them. An ambulance pulls up on the street; it must have been stationed nearby, for being able to respond so fast. The area in front of the courthouse is littered with smashed and/or abandoned equipment, huge bloodstains on the ground, not all of them belonging to the bodies on the ground.  

And all that is on him.

“What’s the status?” His savior asks and Dean only now realizes that he’s bleeding too.

“Inside.” One of the newly arrived marshals replies, while keeping a constant eye out for any other threat. There are a few prominent bullet holes in the side of the car, and Dean is suddenly very glad that they didn’t get inside. The door hangs off only one of its hinges, the other clearly shot through. Dean thanks whatever guardian angel had its eyes out for him, because he can’t really say how they managed to survive that.

Dean still feels vulnerable and exposed until they are finally inside and in one of the preparation rooms next to the courtroom. One of the paramedics comes in to check on him, and after urging him to sit down and dumping a blanket on him, he deems him well enough to leave alone. He knows that blankets usually mean shock, but Dean can’t say if he’s in shock or not. He feels normal, a bit shaken, but otherwise fine. Still, the blanket helps to calm his nerves.

The situation seems to be back under control though, and while his personal shield (he still doesn’t know the man’s name) is avidly against continuing the trial right now, his superior is of an apparent different opinion.

And Dean, as sick as it makes him feel, has to agree. Two people dead, one on the brink of death, and several more are injured; the sniper fired randomly into the crowd after he failed his initial shot, a result of his anger or as part of a diversion tactics, the officers can’t say. He’s soaked through with blood that isn’t his own, but this has to end here and now or it never will. They caught the sniper - a non descriptive man with no obvious connections to Alastair, but no one really expected anything else. They’re questioning him right now, but Dean doesn’t have high hopes that they get anything useful out of him. Jody shows up shortly after, giving a renewed clear on the surrounding area, but the officers are still on edge. Maybe even more so, because the first clear was obviously a flunk. 

His savior is patched up and Dean has to relinquish his blanket after the paramedic checks on him again. The courtroom has filled with spectators in the meantime, despite the assassination attempt, the upturn is high. The whole thing has caused quite an uproar in Sioux Falls, Alastair is a known businessman, and while his shady business isn’t exactly located there, many have heard of him.

Someone shoves a shirt into Dean’s hands, two sizes too small but it will do. There are still bloodstains on his pants, but that will have to do for now.

“Well at least we don’t have to fight through the media crowd.” Dean jokes half heartedly but not even Jody pretends it’s funny. He can’t really blame her for that. It was a rather pathetic attempt.

“The prosecuted have arrived, it’s time. Better get this over with” His savior declares after receiving a radio message, gesturing to two of the marshals who instantly get into position behind Dean. And here he thought he could ditch his escort. “After what happened just now I doubt we’ll ever get a chance like this again. Are you ready?” It’s true probably. If they postpone the trial even just for a few days, chances are Alastair will make a run for it. And while he isn’t the only one facing charges today, he’s the one they’re primarily after.

Dean just nods. He’s been preparing himself for this for the last weeks, and now that it’s finally on him, he feels oddly calm. Maybe it’s the brush with death he just nearly survived, but the fear and worry he felt before seem so insignificant now. And while he doesn’t look forward to expose his sins to the public, it will all be worth it, as long as Alastair gets what he deserves.

Since he’s a witness he isn’t allowed in the courtroom until he’s called, but he won’t have to wait long. Perks of being the key witness or something like that.

And then it’s time. His marshals escort him inside, and he has to face Alastair for the first time after he woke tied up in that rundown warehouse. And it takes just one look at his family in the front row to remind him of why he’s doing this. And that is all it takes.

He takes the stand, shoulders squared and voice even. The questions the prosecutor asks are easy, he’s prepared for them, has been told exactly what to expect. It’s not exactly pleasant, but doable. And so he retells his story. He tries hard to keep his emotions in check, but he has carried this with him for so long that he can’t help but get emotional. He manages to keep the waver out of his voice though, and if his eyes are moist just a little, well, no one has to know about that.

And then the defense attorney gets into cross examination, and Dean has to forcefully remind himself that no matter how angry he gets, it’s not worth it to lose his cool. They’re counting on that, provoking him in the hope to get a rise out of him. Make him look bad in front of the jury. He has to close his eyes and focus on the memory of Cas from that morning. The way his hands had tightened on his shoulders, the way Dean’s name had sounded on his lips. The infinite blue of his eyes when he had leaned in for a kiss afterwards.

And there’s that thought for a second that if he fails this he might never get that again. The thought hurts, his chest squeezing tight around his heart for a moment, making it hard to breathe for a moment.

The attorney has to repeat his question, impatient and with a disdained frown, but Dean doesn’t care - he can do this. He just has to keep calm, and remember what awaits him in the end if he makes it. And one glance to the jury shows mostly sympathetic faces, one of them is even smiling at him, and he realizes with a painful tug at his heart that he’s crying. Just one tear, spawned by the thought of losing Cas, but somehow it seems to have a significant effect on the jury.

After that, it’s almost too easy.

The jury is perceptibly on his side, and the increasingly unfriendly way the attorney keeps firing his questions only works in his favor. That doesn’t make the questions any easier, but at least he now feels like he’s working up to an achievable goal.

And then it’s over, and while he feels like a giant weight has been lifted from his shoulder, he can’t help but feel that he spent way too much time worrying.  Everything seems so simple now. Alastair can’t touch him, not anymore, the assassination attempt was his last chance and he screwed it.

In the end it feels like all the effort doesn’t meet up with the outcome. His testimony, as important and painful as it was for him, is not what’s decisive in Alastair’s conviction. It is - and that comes as a surprise for him - mostly thanks to Meg that gets him his sentence, him and the others. The marshals had been working with her for quite a while now, as part of a long-term plan to bring Alastair down, and Dean had provided just the distraction they needed to let Meg gather the last of the evidence they required. He’s not exactly thrilled at being used, but…

Well he certainly won’t complain.

It feels like everything just happens so fast afterwards. Alastair is escorted out of the courtroom along with his accomplices, heads held high but it’s all just a pointless charade now. Hand and feet cuffs take away a lot of the majesty after all. And just like that, it’s over.

It takes the whole of the celebration afterwards, all the congratulations and the shoulder claps, the smiles and the impromptu hugs, the noticeable absence of any security guards for him to let the realization settle though. And it is when he lies in Cas arms later that night, in a position reminiscent of the one they woke up this morning, that it really fully sticks with him.

_It is over._

He’s finally free.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at last at the end of this story. Thank you all for reading this story, thank you for commenting and favoriting and generally being the awesome people you are. I have two other projects I'm working on and that will be posted soon-ish (on top of the other story I'm publishing) It would be nice to see a few of you there ;) Have fun with the epilogue ;)

After the trial is over, Castiel flings himself into his arms, without any regards to the people around them. Dean doesn’t care though, he’s had a close brush with death again, and Cas has every right to reassure himself of his wellbeing. He doubts he has ever hugged so many people in one day.  And just this once, he doesn’t fight it; lets Sam crush him in yet another bear hug, followed by Jess who thankfully eases up on him this time.

He’s aware of the cameras flashing around him. The marshal who had caught his bullet had been dead instantly, and two others had died, one instantly, the other had succumbed to his injuries. The deaths weigh heavy on Dean’s heart and he feels a sharp contempt coil in his chest for the media people who seem to forget that so easily.

But it’s over now and Dean is too exhausted to throw a fit.

It feels weird now that it’s over. Dean has come to accept the fact that this might be the end of the rope for him and he’ll end up behind bars, but after his contribution along with Meg’s to the case, the judge had acquitted him without so much as a second thought. A formality at this point, but to Dean it’s everything.

Meg has been acquitted too, but he doesn’t get the chance to talk to her, or even to thank her for quite literally saving his life. But there’s nothing he can do about that, and when Jody finally gives them the clear for leaving, Dean drops in the back of Jess’ car and refuses to move for at least the time it takes to get home.

Castiel has similar ideas and refuses to let go of him for the drive’s duration and Dean is glad for it. It’s over, but to him it still feels like he has been run over by a truck. And although his family has made it quite clear that they still accept him despite his crimes, he can’t help but feel weary. He just needs rest and probably a bit of time to find back into his life. And come to terms with the fact that a) his crimes are out for the world to judge and b) that his crimes are out and can never come back to bite him in the ass.

But that means he can focus all his energy on getting his life together now. He could find an apartment or even a small house for him and Cas to live in, finally get on his own two feet and give Cas the life he deserves. It certainly won’t be easy; he would have to invest a lot of work, but looking at Cas curled protectively around his arm, a soft smile on his lips as he keeps staring up at Dean, makes him think that it would all be worth it.

And that brings him back to something he wanted to do for a very long time now. But now is not the right time.

* * *

It’s later on the same day, after an excessive barbecue hosted by Ellen and Bobby in Bobby’s backyard, and Dean and Cas have retreated to their room. The others are still down there and celebrating, very loudly so, but Dean is tired and so he bids everyone goodnight. It takes another round of very drunken hugs before he’s allowed to leave.

He’s exhausted, tired to his bones, too tired to do more than brush his teeth and fall into Cas’ waiting arms. But he still has the strength to do one more thing before he falls asleep.

“Goodnight Dean.” Cas says solemnly, but he’s smiling softly, eyes bright with something that takes Dean’s breath away. Dean just had one beer that night, but he feels like he’s drunk on the sensation of just being with Cas. It’s like someone has poured liquid light into his body, he feels warm, almost glowing with it and incredibly comfortable.

Maybe that’s why the next words come so easily.

“I love you Cas.”

Cas entire face seems to light up with the same sensation that’s flooding through Dean’s system. He’s smiling, soft and warm and Dean feels himself drift off, buoyed by the warmth inside and around him.

“I love you too.”

He doesn’t know if he really heard the words or if they’re spoken in his dream, but either way, he falls asleep with a smile.

* * *

He’d thought the confession would be ground shattering; change the very fabric of their relationship, but all that happens is that he wakes up with a face that hurts from smiling. There had been no nightmare like in the weeks before the trial, only peace. He feels more rested like he felt in a long while and when he opens his eyes, it’s to the sight of Castiel smiling.

They don’t say a word; they don’t need to. There’s just the drag of skin over skin, the slight scratch of stubble and the intimate sensation of kissing that speaks for them. All the tension of the past weeks is gone. They’re okay. It hits Dean then that for the duration of their relationship, there had always been an obstacle, some kind of trouble on the horizon, but now, for the first time, there is nothing ahead but the future.

And it has never looked brighter.

* * *

_Six months later_

“What do you think?” Dean leans against the doorframe, a small grin playing on his lips. Cas looks around himself, eyes wide and unbelieving.

“Dean, how did you…?”

“Hard work, lots of extra hours and a loan that I’ll have to work my ass off for.” Dean steps inside to stand next to Cas and entwine their fingers, earning a bright smile and eyes that seem to glow. “So?”

“It is amazing.” Cas breathes, looking around once again before he pulls Dean into a lingering kiss. “I. Love. It.” Every word is accentuated by another kiss and it becomes clear pretty quickly that Cas intends to break in their new apartment with wild furniture sex. Or maybe that’s just Dean.

Dean hadn’t told Cas of his plans to buy them something of their own. He wanted a house first, but there are limits to what he can afford and so he bought a condo instead. It took another month to acquire the rest of the furniture and furnish the rooms properly, but the wait was very well worth it. Although he and Cas had more than one fallout when it came to Dean’s long working hours and all the additional late nights he pulled at the bar.

“Dean.” Cas pushes him on the brand new sofa in front of the flat screen that isn’t as brand new but nevertheless awesome.

“Whoa there cowboy. Don’t you want to check out the rest of the rooms first? You know there’s a bed in the bedroom.”

“No.” Cas answer flatly, straddling him with unwavering enthusiasm. “Later.” He amends after thoroughly kissing Dean until he’s breathless.

“Okay.” Dean smirks and sneaks his hands under Cas’ shirt.

And when Cas is buried deep inside of him, breath heavy and eyes glazed over, it settles with Dean that this is really their home now. For all intents and purposes. He’ll miss Bobby and he’ll miss Sam. But he’s home now.

After that there’s not much thinking anymore, only the steadily increasing rhythm of Cas fucking into him while gasping out Dean’s name. 

* * *

Cas is insatiable. They get as far as the kitchen before Cas pushes him against the counter and drops down to his knees in front of him. He hooks his fingers into his pants and pulls them down. Dean has barely the time to brace himself against the counter before Cas has his mouth on him.

Dean tangles one hand in Cas’ messy hair, head thrown back in ecstasy as Cas works him back to hardness in what must be record time. It doesn’t take long for Dean to become an incoherent mess, not with Cas taking advantage of the fact that he doesn’t possess a gag reflex. He comes with a scream on his lips, the pleasure crashing through him like waves on a shoreline, fingers tangled in Cas’ hair and his pulls must be uncomfortable but Cas only seems to be spurred on by it. His knees buckle almost immediately afterwards, but Cas is there to catch him. And Dean can’t resist kissing him right then, lips still shiny with saliva, and the faint taste of Dean on his tongue.

“Are you planning on baptizing every room like this?” Dean’s voice is still husky from his recent orgasm and he can feel the light shudder that runs through Cas’ body at the sound.

“Maybe.” Cas grins what Dean can only describe as lewdly.

“Kinky.” Dean smirks back and pushes Cas back against the kitchen table. He drops down to his knees just as Cas had earlier, and hooks a thumb under the hem of Cas’ pants. Cas sucks in air and closes his eyes, when the cool air hits his heated skin. He’s half hard already, panting and anticipating. Dean doesn’t need any more prompting.

Even after all this time Dean hasn’t grown tired of Cas’ taste. It’s faint, as always, but Dean has become a master of chasing it with his tongue. He presses his lips to the tip and sucks, uses his tongue to add pressure right where he knows Cas loves it and it doesn’t take long for him to be completely hard.

Dean knows Cas by now. Knows every little twist, every little motion that makes him gasp or moan and he knows each and every one of his tells. The way his fingers tighten almost imperceptibly in his hair, how the muscles in his stomach start trembling and how his breathing changes just slightly. Cas moans out Dean’s name, a broken sound that sends a tingle down Dean’s spine. He goes quite for a moment then, Cas’ whole body relaxes up to the point of slackness almost. Cas’ sways then, imperceptibly, but  then he tenses with a startled gasp, whole body locking up as he comes.

Cas isn’t a screamer, but the sounds he makes are just as delicious. Dean keeps his lips on Cas’ dick, applying pressure until the end. It still feels strange to have nothing spill out on his tongue after what looks to be one mind blowing orgasm, but Dean can’t really say he misses it. Cas doesn’t collapse but he leans back heavily on the table, panting and face flushed a deep sated red.

He mirrors Dean’s smirk right back at him.

* * *

They move on to the bed after Cas has inspected every detail of his new home. He’s especially fond of the set of flower pots that Dean bought for their balcony. He also made sure to show his gratitude right there on the balcony, for all the world to see.

Dean stopped caring sometime around the point when Cas had started to suck on his nipples. They hadn’t put on more than their underwear after the kitchen so getting rid of those hadn’t taken long and then Dean was bent over the railing, getting a nice view of the neighborhood while Cas pounded into him. Once they had been finished, one pair of underwear was missing however, and Dean has the slight suspicion that it might have fallen off the balcony.

Well, the world is one pair of Captain America boxers richer.

Ironically enough, after fucking their way through every room, they are too exhausted to continue in their actual bed. Dean is, at least. Cas could probably go on for the rest of eternity.

“I take it you like the apartment?” Dean asks with a content and lazy smile on his face. He’s naked and sated and he has the man he loves in his arms. There’s nothing more he could wish for right now.

“I’m not sure.” Cas replies, a thoughtful frown on his face. “I think I need to check the couch again.”

“How about the shower?” Dean asks. “Tomorrow.” He adds after a yawn.

“Preferably.”

“Glad you like it.” Dean mumbles. He nuzzles his face deeper into Cas’ neck, soaking in his scent and the warmth that radiates from his skin. Their feet are tangled and Cas’ arm is thrown over his waist, hands curled on his lower back.

“Of course I like it.” Cas says softly, rubbing soft circles into Dean’s skin with his thumb. “It’s perfect.”

Dean is half asleep by the time Cas speaks again.

“Thank you Dean.”

He falls asleep with a smile.


End file.
